


Behind Blue Lies

by Mercale



Series: Lives Under the Pink Moon [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/F, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Gen, Hemospectrum, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Pre-Scratch Alternia, Quadrant Breaking, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-11 05:20:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 53,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercale/pseuds/Mercale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before there was Alternia there was another world altogether. Trolls with longer lifespans helped those with shorter find happiness, and peace reigned. But no system is perfect, and Vriska Serket was raised knowing that. Where there are differences there is prejudice, fear, and conflict. Nowhere is that more obvious than with the hemohierarchists. Forced to count herself among their numbers, Vriska must to grow into being a troll that she hates, and the cost of it might just be more than she can bear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to be taking a break to do classwork. We can see how well that went. Oh well, here's the start of another story, Vriska's. It's going to be a long story, possibly longer than Gamzee's. Who knows. I do know exactly where it's going, unlike the last. The whole thing is outlined, scenes are planned, ALL OF THE PLOTS ARE IN THE MAKING. All of them. So here it is and I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> For those of you who haven't come here by way of An Unscratched Surface (and I doubt there are any) I would heavily recommend going to read that to get more of the context of the world, as this story builds from that.
> 
> As for those of you who have come here by way of An Unscratched Surface, there is something you haven't seen yet. I'd suggest popping back in to chapters 19 and 25 which now have links to some fanart. Enjoy!

One thing Vriska had learned in her life was that stories were rarely ever told from their true beginnings. For instance, her friend Gamzee began telling the story about how he and his matesprit had gotten together with his first day as a guidance adjustor trainee. Karkat started it a bit earlier, with a quick overview of his wrigglerhood (though Gamzee did always bring that part in later, it was too important to pass up). And Vriska? Well, she could start with why she was out here, slogging through the rapidly warming sand in the pre-dawn haze, her solar protecting garments wrapped tightly around her to protect her from the too powerful rays of the rising sun, but that wasn't where the story started. Not even close. The story started a few hundred sweeps earlier, hundreds of miles away in the Imperial throne room with a young fuchsia blooded troll named Veruna Mateas.

Veruna was the youngest of the last pupation of the fuchsia blooded, and like all others of her blood line, a lifetime of service to the shorter lived bloods was expected of her. Yet being so young also meant she was far outside of the potential to become Heiress, and envied the older Gyliea her position greatly. Not because, though, she wished to dedicate her life to helping and guiding other trolls. No, Veruna thought such service was below her, below anyone of her blood. Shouldn't people who lived longer see to the service of themselves? It was her belief that as a long lived, cold-blooded troll, she should be served, not serve. She suggested that the longer lived bloods were superior and should be served. Their bloods were a range, a spectrum of superior to inferior, and she was perched at the top.

Her ideas were far from popular among her fellows, but the more she searched the more trolls she found to be like-minded among the violet, purple, and blue blooded trolls. There was a proper, natural order of things, and most trolls didn't seem to care. The hardest on her ideas were the other fuchsias, especially the then Empress and the Heiress Gyliea, who looked upon Veruna and her followers with disgust and disdain. So, when Veruna disappeared one day at sea with a few of her favored 'highbloods,' she was searched for, but not as vigorously as another troll might have been. And when she wasn't found, the mourning period was brief and attended to by but a few. Thus ended the story of Veruna Mateas. Two perigees later began a far larger tale, that of the hemohierarchist movement, purported started by some of her surviving ideological equals.

Vriska knew the truth behind that poorly crafted facade. How could she not, when she'd stood in the presence of the 'late' fuchsia blooded hemohierarchist? But that, again, is getting ahead in the story, isn't it?

Jump forward a few hundred sweeps or so, and you'll find that an idea either dies, lingers, or flourishes. Hemohierarchy, contrary to the popular wishful thinking, thrived in the blood pushers of the cooler-blooded trolls who wanted to get more out of their lives—and sooner—than they would ever want to put into it. Sooner or later the hierarchists found the dissatisfied. They did it through guardians, through wards, friends or bosses, or just quiet messages slipped into the unthinking, uncaring claws of mail drones. One and all they joined together, forged to become the blade which Veruna wielded against 'lowbloods' and those 'highbloods' who disagreed with her. They were her army and court, and she their Empress.

And after the end of an inquiry into the matter of the care of one Karkat Vantas, they came for Vriska Sekret.

She knew them the moment they came into the main office of the production center that had fallen into Vriska's claws to perigees before. When her guardian, Spided Ryicos, was condemned to a life of physical labor by Empress Gyliea for his treatment of two of his wards (the crimson blooded Karkat Vantas and the olive Remium Olisar), she had turned the management of the production center over to Vriska. Since the young cerulean blood had been training in management at the center, it had been an easy enough transition for her, but it had taken time to set straight and work out all the kinks that her former guardian had caused. There were papers left unfiled, trolls with back compensation coming, and poor work conditions for some of the 'lowbloods' such as Remium (who Vriska had sworn to take on as her assistant manager after speaking with his new guardian, Primate Indigo). After two perigees she'd finally made progress, finally sorted out the illegal back books her guardian had been working--no one noticed the corrections, or if they did they wisely kept silent about it--and she had begun to settle into this new life she was living. She had a wonderful, pitiful matesprit who had prompted Vriska to change hives to live with her (now that Gamzee and Karkat had gotten their act together Kanaya didn't need to worry about her moirail's status), a supportive auspitice in Karkat to deal with the conflicts that always arose between her and Terezi, and she finally had a free and clear path to set some black courtship in motion that she'd been thinking about for almost half a sweep now.

She had been doubled over a husktop when the pair entered the room, but for all that they had obviously tried to sneak into the office, Vriska knew that the two trolls had come in behind her. She could sense them in a way they could never anticipate, never expect. After all, 'highbloods'—she could tell they were hierarchists without even looking—didn't really stop to consider the rare psychic gifts that sometimes developed in colder bloods, except for the oddly frequent quirk the purples had at times. They wouldn't have learned from Spided about her talent, because she'd never even told her guardian. There was too much to dislike, distrust, about the feel of the other troll for Vriska to ever confess to the rarer of her two gifts. After all, while she wore her vision eightfold plainly, there was no looking at a cerulean and knowing they were one of the rare and 'terrible' empaths born to the blood type.

"What do you want?" she snapped, not even bothering to look up. Looking up would show weakness, she knew it from years of living with her guardian, and these weren't the kind of trolls you did that around. Bravado went a long way when dealing with the hierarchists.

"We're friends of your guardian. Live on the other side of the planet, and when we heard what was going on..." one, a male with a wet, rasping voice that was rather characteristic of a violet getting used to the water quality in an area they weren't native to.

"And I should give any damn why?" Vriska asked, at last raising her eyes to glare at the pair.

She knew it created the desired effect when the fins on either side of the violet's face flattened back in shock. Karkat used to tell her than when she glared like that, just through the top part of her glasses, it forced a troll to look at her despite themselves. It was a useful trick when coupled with the fact that her vision eightfold allowed her to see things others couldn't. Unfortunately she didn't like what that vision told her. Sure, the violet was unhappy with her mutation, but he wasn't afraid of it like some others were. And the indigo female that stood at his side seemed completely unfazed. Just what she needed, a pair of hierarchists that were not only carrying weapons, but who seemed to think she had worked against their best interests.

“Listen, I'm sure you're here to give me a rousing speech on superiority and high versus low and all that usual stuff, but as you pointed out, he was _my_ guardian. I know the routine, Spided was pretty thorough with me. But, as you can see, I've got plenty of irons here, all of them in fires, and they need turning. So spit it out of your gaping maws, and make it fast. I've got real work to do.”

There was a long minute of silence as the indigo female looked in askance at her superior, and the wave of fury that rolled off of her was shocking—though not as strong as some Vriska'd felt from Gamzee before. This indigo was ready to discipline her inferior, but refused to do it without her superior's permission.

“You've got a nasty tongue on you, cerulean,” the violet rasped, bearing his teeth. Vriska returned the snarl.

“Just because you're my better doesn't mean I have to be polite.”

“If should have your disciplined, girl.”

“If you were going to, you would've already. So get to it.”

The violet contemplated her for a moment, and Vriska could feel a flicker of amusement flash through him, could see the decision form on his face with her vision, and so she wasn't surprised when the violet sat down across her desk. The indigo shut the door of the block at the movement, looking like she had just swallowed something sour. Now the real meeting was going to begin, and Vriska wasn't sure how she was going to like it. Spided wasn't the only hierarchist she'd met before, and her few other encounters had been less than pleasant.

“You do realize that we've got a problem here, right?” the violet asked.

“No, I wasn't aware,” Vriska hissed, rolling her eyes. “Which problem do you want? How sloppy my guardian was at altering his books? Or how a simple inspection of work conditions would have had him in chains sweeps ago with how transparent he was? The only thing he did right was beat fear into the heads of my fellow wards.”

“So why did you encourage one to speak against him?”

Here was the heart of the matter, and pleasantly easily gotten around to. Vriska even cracked as smile at the other troll.

“Why not?” Vriska asked, pitching her voice just low enough to create a sense of intrigue in her listeners. As much as she hated it, she had learned the art of manipulation from her guardian, and had refined it through the careful observation of others with her paired gifts. Sure enough, the tone, the vague answer, got the violet to lean in with interest. The fishface was on the hook. Now to reel him in.

“The simple truth is that Spided had outlived his usefulness. To me, to others, even to himself. The purple, Gamzee Makara, was flushed for my co-ward Karkat, and he wouldn't' have let Spided continue once he caught on. Spided didn't have the skill, or composure, to handle a flushed troll on a warpath. Giving him away meant not being seen as supportive of him. That enabled this place to fall into my claws, and keep a crazy purple from lashing out at me in the future. All win for me, all loss for Spided. He wasn't useful enough to risk myself over.”

Again silence, and this time a kind that was harder to read. Whatever decisions the violet was making, they were logic driven, not emotion. Vriska wished it was less logical. While she had no intention of direct manipulation of his emotions, even the slightest hint of them could tell her what would happen next...

At last the violet moved, and when he did it was to draw out a piece of paper from his pocket. Soon it was lying there on the desk between them.

“You'll do,” he declared with approval, standing before Vriska could react, and out of the block before she could even unfold the paper. She only had time to read the trollian handle on the paper before even the smells of salt and sweat that had swept in with the pair seemed to dissipate like a bad dream.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I really couldn't focus on my classwork only. I'm sure I'll regret that in the future. In the meantime, more. Also, in case you're new to my work, let's go over something. Indigo does not, in my opinion, refer to Gamzee's blood color. Gamzee is a purple blood. It's the level of blood below him, Equius's caste, that is indigo. I base this on a few things, including my personal interpretation of the color indigo, information on the MSPA wiki, and the fact that in the coloUrs and mayhem Universe A album, both Equius and Darkleer's songs have indigo titles. 
> 
> So keep in mind for the story, that when I say 'indigo' I mean blue on Equius's level.
> 
> ^^

So here she was now, two sweeps later, if not wiser, waiting for the sound that would tell her she was drawing close to her goal.

“Who goes there?” a rattling voice called out in the pre-dawn haze. The sound of it didn't phase Vriska, it was what she'd been waiting for and she just continued striding forward, all too aware of how her purposeful stride was upsetting the watchman. If she didn't have to wear her solar protection garments, the watch wouldn't have even hesitated. She was just too distinctive in appearance with her mismatched horns and eyes; but covered as she was, no one was going to be able to tell her apart from any other formless mass of solar protection garments. Still Vriska could sense the rising tension in the other troll, feel his fingers itching on the baton at his side, and at last she couldn't hold back anymore. 

“The Spider Queen,” Vriska responded at last, still moving forward but risking a chance to lift her head and pull her hood enough away from her face to show off her eye. The unique trait, mixed with her personal key phrase, a display of blood color, and examination of her horns, would be her ticket into the meeting she'd risked the sun to attend. Not that she wanted to be here, it had her skin itch to be around these people, but she _had_ to be here. 

“'Bout time you showed up, blueblood,” the ratting voice growled as Vriska slipped under the rocky overhang and into a rich, soothing shade. The second she was safely under, the hood of her garment was all but ripped off of her head, catching on her forked horn briefly and making her head jerk back painfully. Ultimately, though, the material gave way before the sharpness of horn and rough handling, and Vriska almost winced at the tearing sound. She'd have to replace another garment hood. Kanaya would never understand. 

“Like I'd ever miss the chance to surrender myself to your damn attention, Keeper,” Vriska countered, unable to resist adding some extra snark to her voice. 

“Fucking impertinent...” the purple blooded troll known only as Keeper grumbled as he rapped his knuckles against her horns, making sure they weren't hollows slipped on over her real ones to fool him. 

This was Vriska's least favorite part, physical contact with her horns only amplified her gift, and the Keeper's mind was one of many that she didn't like to touch. His thoughts were more violent than Gamzee got when someone threatened his mutant blooded matesprit, and they were half caught up in delusions of gaining a caliginous relationship with her. Far more worthy trolls than him had tried and failed to tie her down in that quadrant, Terezi topping the list. 

With the horn inspection out of the way, Vriska thrust her palm at the scowling violet blooded watch troll, and kept a perfectly nonplussed expression in place as he drew a short knife out and pulled it across her palm, leaving a trail of cerulean in the blade's wake.

“Satisfied?” Vriska asked, pulling her hand back and reaching into her garment for a cloth to wrap her hand in. 

“Never,” Keeper growled, bearing uneven and yellowed teeth.

“Good,” Vriska laughed as she bound her hand. With a flip of her hair and a winning smirk, she pushed past the other troll, heading for a hidden crack in the stone that led into the large meeting cave where others undoubtedly waited to be graced by her presence.

And by graced with her presence, Vriska mostly meant she wasn't going to plop down into an out of the way seat, avoid any quadrant solicitations, and try not to piss off any of the higher—and consequently less stable—troll present. Too many of the purples and indigos that came here had unstable tempers, and she'd seen one nasty piece of crazy tear the arms off a teal hierarchist who accidentally stood in his way for too long. What good would it do her to get killed?

“Well, well, well. If it isn't my favorite power glubbing blueblood,” an all too familiar voice purred the second Vriska stepped into the large cave. 

Instantly Vriska was whirling on her heels, a long dagger in her hand and her teeth borne in a savage snarl. There was little point to it—she knew that from experience—but it amused the fuchsia blood to no end, made her like Vriska's 'fighting spirit.' All that the display earned Vriska, though, was the fuchsia blooded bitch chuckling faintly behind a deceptively frail upraised hand. 

“Veruna,” Vriska hissed, wishing she had the nerve and skill to just lash out and slice the delicate throat of the high and mighty bitch. Problem was she wouldn't make it out alive, and while the Empress-to-be was undoubtedly the true (and bitter) force behind the group, another would undoubtedly take her place. 

“What an absolute pleasure. I wasn't expecting to see you here today.” 

A lie, and they both knew it, but it was its own kind of pleasantry between them. And the smaller lies, Vriska found, went pretty far on the path of hiding the larger ones. Still, Veruna seemed amused. She was, after all, the only true regular fixture at the meetings other than the Keeper, or at least they had been during the two sweeps Vriska had been attending these meetings. Veruna was an empress who expected to be attended to by her court. 

Vriska hated it (platonically). 

“Nor I you, little one. Imagine my surprise. Ah, but come, my dear, don't sit in that stuffy corner tonight with all of those blueblooded brutes. Join me in the front today.”

“It's not my place,” Vriska answered, feigning a sweet, subservient voice that they both knew as meant to mock more than anything. 

“Your place is what I make it, my dear.”

“My place is what I take,” Vriska countered, brushing her hair back over her shoulder and striding towards the front of the cave. It was easy, too easy, to feign confidence as she plopped down into a seat, when she had the approving gaze of Veruna upon her. While many would jump at the chance to beat her for such an assumption, none would do it with how their queen looked upon her. Even if she hadn't, Vriska knew it wouldn't be any of the hierarchists who would handle her, but the fuchsia herself. Vriska's blood would join the splashes of red, green, and blue that already decorated the long, tightly spiraled horns that looked like they belonged on some savage seabeast's head. 

There was little time to consider the danger she was in claiming such a prime seat, not that she would retrieve an iron from the fire before it was ready, because within a few beats of her blood pusher, there's a rough, grating sound in the room. The Keeper had entered and pushed a hunk of rock into place to block the entrance. No one would come or go without trouble now, and Vriska's own strength was no where near enough to break free even if she wanted to. Once again she was trapped in a room of crazies, and there was nothing she could do. 

“Good morning, my children,” Veruna purred, gliding easily to the front of the cave as the other trolls present rushed to claim seats. “It seems so long since I could last look upon you, gathered here before me.”

As if they had much of a choice. Those who betrayed the would-be-Empress met worse fates than the lowblooded victims. It wasn't hard to guess where the colors that dyed the fuchsia's horns or extravagant (and otherwise white) gown came from. She even wore—with no shame—a belt made of bits of broken horns held together by chains tarnished by blood. Veruna was not kind, to friend or foe. For now being the fuchsia's favorite spared Vriska's life, but it could get her killed soon enough. 

“The time approaches, children,” Veruna said, like she had these last two sweeps, “when we will claim our proper place. But for now we must continue to teach the lowbloods their place. For when we do they will glubbing well know us for their betters. And when we rise up to rule they will know their time has come, and they will show themselves for cowards. They will stand by when we rise, or their blood shall paint the world!”

Unlikely, Vriska couldn't help but think. Lowbloods always outnumbered high, and for all that highbloods were physically stronger, that meant nothing in the face of some of the lowblood powers. She'd seen trolls who could walk unharmed through the worst of the sun's rays, seen some who could lift rocks the size of a full grown purple over their heads, and even one with psionics so strong Vriska wouldn't be surprised to find he could destroy a whole hivestem if he tried. Veruna was tromping through a venomous hissbeast nest, and was taking their lack of striking yet to mean they were tame. Someday they would stop tolerating the intruder, and that would be the end of the hierarchists. For now, though, Vriska put her hands together, joining the others in a rousing cheer for the words of their Empress. 

“Already blood falls upon the sands! Speak, Calgor, and tell our brothers and sisters what has been accomplished.”

With a gesture from Veruna, a violet blooded troll with his arm in a sling, a torn facial fin, and a variety of bruises up his bare arms, rose and turned to face the assembled trolls. Just looking at him made Vriska sure that whatever else they heard, it wasn't going to include his own blood's spilling. Shame, she was sure that was absolutely the best part of the story.

“A week ago while my men and I walked the shores near our home we found a damn mudblood walking the shore like he belonged there. We taught him the error of his ways, and left the body behind as a lesson.”

“Some lesson,” Vriska mumbled, pitching the words in just the right range to be heard and still sound like she was trying to not be heard. 

When Calgor whirled on her, Vriska had to hold back a viscous grin at how easy it was to provoke the trolls here.

“Have something to say?” Calgor hissed, his facial fins flaring wide for a moment before a pained look came over his face as he stretched the injured fin too far. “Or are you going to snark like you always do to hide the fact that you don't have the shame globes to take these lowbloods to task with force?”

“I don't need to prove my superiority with my fists,” Vriska countered in as condescending a tone as she could manage, which was all kinds of condescending. All kinds. “Turns out a thinkpan works wonders. Not that you'd have any reason to notice.”

“Bitch...” the violet grits out, advancing on Vriska as his hand reaches for a blade at his side. 

Vriska's own dagger is in hand before he's advanced a pace, and the sight of it gives the troll pause. At her first one of these meetings an indigo had tried to get a little too red with her, and she'd taken two fingers for his trouble. Sometimes her former guardian's obsession with teaching the lowbloods their place paid off, as it had with the tutor in an ancient and rarely practiced form of artistic knife fighting. Turned out the lessons were just as suited to real combat. Still, most of the trolls here, for all that they would happily attack her, knew Vriska well enough not to risk getting into a fight that no one would support them in. 

“Please, give me an excuse to take the rest of that fin off your face,” Vriska crooned, twirling the blade between her fingers.

“Stand down, Calgor,” Veruna called, grin in place. “I would hear Vriska.”

“Of course, my Empress,” Calgor said immediately, reflexively. Below the surface, though, he seethed with barely controlled fury. 

“Vriska, dear, if you would.”

“It's simple. How are we supposed to strike fear into lowbloods, where it belongs, if we kill them?” 

“I told you...” Calgor started and stopped abruptly when Vriska forced her smile wider. 

“If we kill all our victims, we become a threat they laugh off. Leave them alive and barely blooded and they think us weak. But beat them, leave them bloody and broken, and let them know who did the deed. Let the knowledge sweep through them, whispers from one to another. Some will believe and fear, and others will not, think it merely whispers of fools.”

“You would have us be monsters out of wriggler's tails?” Calgor demanded. 

“Yes,” she responded, forcing amusement into her voice. “I would. Is there any greater fear than what a troll creates in their own thinkpan? We will be the terror they don't want to believe, but when they hear of fellows beaten, they will know. They will wonder if they're next, and the ones that don't believe will when we come for them or their friends or quadrants. And those we break, they'll stay broken, and break the spirits of others. A dead troll invokes bravery. A maimed one, fear.”

“You expect me to glubbing believe that?”

Again Vriska smiled, twirling her dagger between her fingers. “If I'd killed that stupid indigo two sweeps ago, someone would have challenged me next night, and the next, and the next until I was dead. Instead he's down a few digits and I haven't been forced to use the blade since. But, if I need to renew the lesson...”

“Why you...”

“I've changed my mind. I'll pin that fin to your face, make it heal in place. Make sure you're all pretty for the next time you get your ass handed to you by a brown. And you're supposed to be a high and mighty violet. What did the brown do, hit you with a bucket?”

“How dare you...”

“How dare you question me you blueblooded bitch? Yeah, heard that before. Come up with something new so I can give any of the fucks.”

“I'd like to see you do better than I did handling the beasts.”

“Oh, so now there was more than one troll...”

“No, actual beasts! Damn mudblood did something and we were being attacked by seagoats and scuttlebeasts and even a hoofbeast that was there for some reason. They fought like their own young were on the line.”

“You picked a fight with a beasttalker and got away alive?” Vriska asked.

“Of course, what do you think we are?”

Vriska was quite ready to tell him, only to have Veruna make a disgusted sound and glare at Calgor.

“You glubbing idiot. Have none of you studied up on the freak powers the lowbloods are prone to? Creatures bound to the mind of a beasttalker don't just stop fighting when the troll they're bound to at the moment dies. Part of that troll stays in their mind, and drives them until they slay their murderer. If you idiots got away alive the lowblood isn't dead.”

“But we...”

“Whatever you did, it wasn't fatal,” Veruna spat, anger writhing around her like the tentacles of a horrorterror of the deep.

“Like I said, thinkpan, not fists,” Vriska mumbled, again just right to be caught.

“Get out of my sight, Calgor,” Veruna was now snarling at the injured violet. “Do it before I have your horns!”

Calgor stood there for a moment, looking like a stuck oinkbeast, his eyes wide and his fear so strong Vriska could literally taste its coppery tinged moldy flavor on her tongue. Then he was fleeing for the stone that blocked the crack, heaving against it with all his might as Veruna started to stride, purposefully, towards him, the trolls before her parting like the sea before the fuchsia. Still, Calgor labored, the rock slowly moving aside. The truly pathetic thing was that he easily could have pushed it aside had he been calm. But the frantic nature... His death would be slow and terrible. 

There was no real thought that went into what happened next, only instinct to protect herself. While she didn't quite run, Vriska pushed her way through the gathered trolls, dagger clenched tightly in her hand. The crowds weren't moving, though, not like they did for Veruna. Vriska flipped the dagger between her fingers, pinching the blade near the tip, and took a deep breath. On the exhalation she threw the blade, her vision eightfold showing her every single flip of the dagger and promising her that her target would be reached. And the dagger, thrown with all the strength the cerulean could put behind it, flew sure and straight until at last it cut through the cloth and flesh of Calgor, piercing right to the blood pusher. 

Vriska forced herself to move back into a calm stance, commanded her hands not to shake, pressed her face into a vision of perfect, disgusted composure as the eyes of troll after troll turned to look at her in shock. By the time Veruna turned toward her, eyes flashing with death in them, Vriska's composed. Before Veruna could even open her mouth, Vriska's rolling a shoulder and then tossing her hair back, a total lack of concern on her face. 

“Would someone mind pulling that out for me? Thought I heard it biting into bone and you know how that is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeling bad for Vriska yet? No? Okay. I'll keep working at it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somebody slow me down. Introducing another troll here. Hope you like. Just so you know, I like to think that Vriska still calls Kanaya fussyfangs now, but as a term of endearment.
> 
> For those of you here from An Unscratched Surface, go on back. There is now fanart linked to in chapters 5, 19, and 25. Go check it out.

There's enough shock, enough respect for what happened, enough fear of her in that moment that a purple actually moves towards the fallen body, hand reaching for the hilt, before he remembers what's going on. Then he's frozen still like all the others. 

“No? Okay. I'll get it myself,” Vriska says, starting to stride forward, but making damn sure that she's moving slow enough that when Veruna invariably stops her, it will be well out of arm range. 

“You...” Veruna's voice growls, high pitched and painful in its intensity. “How dare you?!” 

“First, it's early, and I'm tired. You take forever with your kills, Highness. Second, he was too fucking stupid to be worth your attention. Finally if he was going to be free for the kill, he'd already done more than enough for me to claim the right.”

“But he was mine!” Veruna roared with fury.

“Then you should have beat me to him.”

Tension, fury, approval, and then all Vriska can feel is amusement as the fuchsia bursts into laughter. She'll live through the day... for now.

“I should have at that. Honestly, girl, I didn't think you had it in you. You've never bothered to bloody your hands before.”

“Never felt the need before. The less blood directly on my hands the harder it would be for an enforcer to pin things on me.”

“If all my followers used there pans so well as you, this would all be smoother. Then again, I'd likely find myself with backstabbers to...” The last words came with a meaningful glance, but there was no true suspicion behind it so Vriska didn't even flinch. Sometimes her empathy was a true blessing. 

“Can we just get on with this now? I'm absolutely bored.”

“Of course,” Veruna said, full of graciousness now, “And here, let me help with your dagger.”

The dagger slid easily from Calgor's back. Well, easily was sort of a relative term. There was a sickeningly wet sound as the blade slid free, and if Vriska hadn't heard the blade grind against bone before, she and everyone else could now. Yet it was nothing but a quick jerk from Veruna and the blade was free. The fuchsia turned the blade in her hand, inspecting it for a moment, then with a delighted grin she returned her attention to Calgor's body. One quick slice and the torn fin was cut free from his face. This too Veruna contemplated for a moment, and with a wider grin she dipped the tips of the fin into Calgor's pooling blood. A few quick brushes of the fin and there were new, feathered streaks of violet gracing her gown. A bloody finger soon added spots of violet to the tips of her horns, and finally, with an audible snap and a quiet groan from all watchers, Veruna snapped the jagged horns that looked like the teeth in a shark's mouth from his head. Those would soon grace her belt, no doubt, and the very idea made Vriska sick. 

At last Veruna rose from her gruesome task, and sauntered back to the front of the cave. When she reached Vriska her hand was held out, the dagger and fin resting in the upturned palm. 

“You said you should cut the fin from his face. And you did kill him. Consider it a token of the triumph of pan over fists.”

There was no refusing, and no accepting with anything but composure. Quickly Vriska took back her dagger, pausing only to wipe Calgor's blood off it with the corner of her solar protection garment before sheathing it. The fin was taken gently, as if with pride and reverence, and slipped into a pocket in the inside of her garment. Veruna nodded with approval and at last turned her attention back to the rest of the trolls.

“I think after this morning's little show, we won't get much done. You may all leave. I expect your return here in two weeks. Now, get out of here.”

Vriska, as all the others, bowed before the fuchsia before turning and stepping over Calgor's body, through the crack the Keeper had reopened. No one lingered, not even to gossip as they were wont to do. No one wanted to earn Veruna's ire. Or Vriska's for that matter. So she was left alone to pull up her hood, careful of the tear, and strike out into the now blazing sun. The hive and comfort of Kanaya's arms were hours away, and standing around would get her nowhere fast. 

She only made it a mile before collapsing, the true weight of what she'd done finally catching up with her. What little she'd managed to get down at supper forced its way back up, turning the sand before her blue from the bile. When nothing else could come up she fumbled for the pocket inside her garment, and pulled Calgor's tattered fin forth. Carefully she stumbled back to her feet and with a flick of her wrist the fin dropped to the sand. Quickly Vriska kicked sand over both fin and vomit, hiding them in the brilliant, scalding white powder. 

She'd done what she'd had to do to survive, not that the knowledge made it any better. Vriska had seen a few deaths before, and they were never easy on her empathic gift. The final wave of feelings was thick with fear, anger, sorrow, and so many things that there weren't names for and it was overpowering on its own when by natural causes. But a violent death? That was a whole other level of trauma. Vriska'd had the misfortune of witnessing one of Veruna's punishments early on, and had she been in the eyes of the others, they'd have known her gift instantly, or Veruna would have had it from here eventually. The emotions had literally doubled her over in pain, filling her head with echoes of fear, pain, utter terror, and Vriska could do nothing about it. 

Vriska hadn't killed Calgor because she wanted to, but because she needed to. Letting Veruna do it could have driven her mad, so Vriska had instead taken a life. 

There was blood on her hands, and it didn't seem to matter that it'd saved her. Even if she'd let Veruna kill Calgor, the fuchsia only would have done it because Vriska forced him to reveal his stupidity. Either way the blood was on her hands, and for what? To try and help the surviving loved ones of a dead brown?

No, not dead. She couldn't be sure of that. Not dead until she could prove it. She would find the beasttalker and do something to undo some of the damage Calgor had wrought.

All she had to do was find a possibly dead troll.

Easiest thing in the world.

Absolutely.

 

 

Fuck.

* * * * * * 

 

It's nearing sunset by the time Vriska makes it back to the hivestem, and hauls herself through the door and into the safety of her hive. Problem is that it's nearly sunset, which means Kanaya has been up for at least an hour, and would be bustling around like the fussyfangs she was. Normally Vriska didn't get back until Kanaya had shuffled off to her work. Normally Vriska had hours to compose herself before she saw her matesprit. And now...

Now she wasn't quite sure if she cared how her matesprit saw her. The walk had been as long and hard as ever, but emotions had been higher and... And. That was the problem, wasn't it? For once, she didn't give any of the fucks about what Kanaya felt or thought about her. She just wanted to collapse on the slab and forget. Pretend she was just a normal cerulean without vision eightfold, without empathy, and without blood on her hands. All she wanted was rest without daymares, memories, or anything else. Sleep and forget. Sleep and stop being Vriska Sekret. 

“Vriska? I was not anticipating your return before my own departure, so I fear that I have not prepared an extra serving of evening meal to share with you.”

Some small part of Vriska's mind, the part reacting to Kanaya's delight and surprise at her matesprit's return, wanted to pretend everything was normal. The rest of her couldn't give any of the fucks, and it wasn't even worth it to try. So she just unstrapped her solar protection garment, and let it fall to the floor behind her as she made for the couch. The dagger sheathe strapped to her thigh soon followed, making a loud thunk on the floor as she finally flopped down on Kanaya's favorite couch. The familiar padded cloth was cool pressed up against her cheek, and Kanaya's taste in everything meant it was soft as well. All in all it was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

“Vriska?” 

There were footsteps now. She should care, should really fucking care, but it's just not happening. The only thing that is are the tears mercilessly stinging in her eyes, threatening to stain the lovely couch should she let them fall. They're almost enough to block out the echoes of Kanaya's emotions, which she'd grown so attuned to that she didn't even need to be in the same block as her matesprit to sense them. Except the tears are a miserable block against emotion when a gasp from Kanaya is accentuated by a wave of fear and concern. Fuck, Vriska'd forgotten about all Calgor's blood on the corner of her garment. That and the dagger she normally hid now being left in plain sight... Fussyfangs was going to have a fit.

“By the Mother Grub. Vriska, just what has occurred since I saw you last? To whom does this blood belong? Are you uninjured? Vriska...”

“Kanaya,” Vriska responded, forcing her voice to come out strong and even. “Don't. Just don't ask. Because if you ask again, I'm going to have to tell you. For my sake... For Gamzee's sake, don't ask me.”

There was no response, just the odd cold feeling Vriska got when her matesprit got upset enough to emotionally shut down. After the sound of footsteps and door opening and closing, Vriska was left alone with her tears. And she let them flow freely. 

She could apologize to Kanaya later for the stain.

* * * * * *

The thing about crying is that in the end, it's a great way to fall asleep. Then again, Vriska noted as she jerked awake some hours later, it also left you with serious panaches. Between that and the overload on her empathy, Vriska was left groaning as she pushed herself up into a seated position. Her pan felt as if it had been struck multiple times by exceedingly heavy hammers. As much as she wanted to crawl to the slab, flop down and sleep the rest of the night and maybe the next day, her pan had to be dealt with first. So Vriska shoved herself off the couch and aimed herself in the direction of the hygiene block 

Unfortunately the second she stood, the hive seemed to spin around her. That just wouldn't do. Stumbling around a hive full of pretty art pieces and sharp corners wasn't on her list of desires. So, with a sigh, Vriska sat down on the floor and patiently waited for the spinning to stop. When, after a few minutes, it seemed quite certain the block would not comply and her head wouldn't allow for patience, she took the last avenue available to her: crawling. Wasn't like there was anyone around to notice the lack of dignity.

By the time she reached the hygiene block her vision was swimming, and for once she was thankful for Kanaya's need for perfect order in the hive. When she hauled herself to standing, her hands tightly gripping the reinforced hand ablution trap as she fumbled for the door of the remedy case, her hand knew exactly where it'd find the pain suppressor medications without looking. No need for trying to force her vision clear long enough to find the damn bottle. All she had to do was pull it down, open it, and pop a few pills. 

Opening turned out to be the hard part, and in the end the bottle broke under the concentrated efforts of her clenching fist. No, that wasn't right. The real hard part was making sure that she didn't take shards of plastic instead of pills. Still, soon enough Vriska was perched on the edge of the ablution trap, swallowing the pain suppressors and willing them to take effect. Sadly they never did fast enough, so Vriska stripped down, crawled into the ablution trap, and turned the water on as hot as she could tolerate—no where near as hot as Kanaya could, of course. The spray of water warmed her body, and soothed the panache away, but did nothing to help the thoughts running rampant through her pan. Didn't soothe away the ills of the morning, no matter how much she wished it would, even if the water and pills managed to free her of the dizziness. No, what had happened had happened, and she had to do something about it.

Which begged the question: how was she going to find the brownblood? 

The answer leapt to her mind like one of Gamzee's often toted miracles. Without even letting her head clear the rest of the way, Vriska threw herself from the shower and pulled on a towel. Then it was off to the second respite block that she and Kanaya used as an office, where her husktop was powered up and waiting. 

 

arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

AG: Weeeeeeeell if it isn't my favorite troll.

TA: 2hiit what do you want now vrii2ka

AG: Can't a girl just want to talk to her old friends?

TA: maybe but that appliie2 two normal giirl2 doe2nt iit

AG: And I'm not normal?

TA: no

AG: ::::O Well, when you're right, you're right. I need some help.

TA: when dont you never miind what do you need

AG: The full power of your networks and your woooooooonderful 8ees.

AG: I have irons needing tending.

TA: fiigured iit wa2 2omethiing liike that more data plea2e

AG: I've found, 8y the usual means, that our mutual friends have 8een out visiting again.

AG: 8ut there's a pro8lem.

TA: ii2nt there alway2 wiith you

AG: I was l8 finding out a8out this. I've got noooooooo clue who the visitee was.

AG: I need you to find him.

TA: waiit you want me two fiind 2omeone you dont even know the name of who miight already be dead

TA: what do you thiink ii am

AG: My miracle worker.

TA: hardly

AG: You found me didn't you?

TA: and iive been payiing for that ever 2iince

AG: 8etter you than Cyclos, right?

TA: ...... riight

AG: I'm not treating this like you still owe me.

TA: liike ii can ever pay you back for what you diid for u2

AG: You don't owe me, Sollux. You've more than done that in spades now. :::;D

TA: that wa2 2o funny ii forgot two laugh that moron 2hout2 iin hii2 2leep you know

AG: Really? I'll pass that on to his m8sprit. May8e he'll make a trip out to visit. Still, you're protecting him, despite everything from the hierarchists. What more can a troll ask for?

TA: clearly favor2 ton2 and ton2 and ton2 and ton2 of favor2

AG: AAAAAAAALL the favors! ::::D

AG: Anyway, I need to find this 8rown, dead or alive.

TA: fiine have anythiing more two go on than the blood color

AG: Well, he's a 8easttalker. Does that help?

TA: ii 2uppo2e ii could try gettiing iintwo the p2ychiic regii2try datacomb no promii2e2 though

TA: that thiing ii2 harder two crack than your pan

AG: I'll have aaaaaaaall the faiths in you, Sollux.

TA: 2ure iill get back two you when ii diig 2omethiing up

AG: Thanks, Sollux. I'll owe you for this. 

TA: then get thii2 damn 2houtiing rage machiine out of my hiive

AG: D:::: Sorry, Sollux. Can't do that. He's still got two sweeps on his internship down there.

AG: Trust me, his m8sprit is pretty un8eara8le at times 8ecause of this. Hell, Terezi is un8eara8le without him around.

TA: ii doubt theyre nearly 2o unbearable a2 kk ii2

AG: You'd 8e surprised. 

AG: Anyway, I've got some things to get to. Good luck.

TA: iill need iit

twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling arachnidsGrip [AG]


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, more of this. I can't believe how caught up I am in writing it. Have more.

After a meal and an hour on the slab, Vriska felt like a whole new troll. She was even in enough of a good moon to spend time looking over the latest financial standings from the teal she'd hired as a financial manager once she'd untangled Spided's mistakes. For all that she was capable of handling them herself, Vriska had never much cared for that part of business management, and it looked better to the hierarchists to see her delegating middle management to a midblood. If they ever looked closely enough, though, they'd find Remium to be her real assistant manager, and problems would crop up.

In the end, though, little work at all got done. Every few minutes she caught herself glancing at her Trollian, hoping Sollux had already managed to figure something out. It was a wrigglerish fancy of hers, something she shouldn't have indulged in at 12 sweeps. Sollux was good, better than good despite his protestations, but good didn't mean time wasn't necessary. As fast and powerful as apiculture networks were, they were also very testy things. Mess one thing up and suddenly there was mind honey everywhere. Everyone knew you had to be careful with mind honey around psychics on the order of Sollux. And there were few psychics quite like Sollux Captor. 

At last Vriska abandoned her husktop, tired of being anxious and in no mood to deal with a pair of trolls who had just signed onto Trollian (though at least Equius and Eridan had gotten worlds better since Gamzee had finally stepped between them like Vriska and Kanaya knew he would). There wasn't much to be done until her matesprit got back to the hivesteam, and then she would be busy showering her sweet flushed Fussyfangs with affection to make up for the encounter that evening. In fact, it would be better if she started making up for it now.

The issue was, as ever, that Vriska had never been a master of the romantic. Kanaya was capable of pulling out all the stops, from candles, to hand cooked meals, not to mention the totally unnecessary and wonderful flush gifts. One the other hand Vriska couldn't cook, didn't even know where Kanaya kept the candles, and was about as good at picking out gifts as a blind wriggler shopping for Her Imperial Highness. Romantic gestures were just not her thing. Grand romantic gestures on a time budget were even worse. Still, as with everything, Vriska was determined to persevere. 

The first, and simplest step, was flowers. It only took a few minutes on the communication grub to order Kanaya's favorite arrangement for delivery. As an after thought she told the floral creationist she'd throw a bonus his way if he could scrounge up a few tall, unscented candles. Another few minutes went into negotiating a price, and while Vriska was sure she got cheated in the end (as if she had any understanding of the value of candles), she came away happy. 

Food was a bit harder. Kanaya wasn't exactly picky, but Vriska wanted a meal which told her matesprit she was appreciated. In the end she wound up just ordering their usual romantic dinner from the usual place. Lack of creativity wasn't a bad thing, not when she went with something so reliable and beloved. It was nothing to shill out the extra credits to have it delivered, hot, about ten minutes before Kanaya returned to the hive (which she did like clockwork, every night, at the same time). 

The real problem was a gift. Try as she might, no amount of wracking her pan solved the question or Vriska's inherent failure at this aspect. She had none of the ideas of what to do. Which meant she was going to have to do something truly unpleasant. 

With a deep breath Vriska reached for the comm grub once more, punching in a number she was loathe to use. For a minute there was only static, and then the dreaded sound of the voice on the other end...

“Adjustor Makara here. What can a brother up and motherfucking do for you?”

“Gamzee, it's Vris...”

“Aw man. If it isn't a wicked sister indeed. Don't suppose you...”

“As much as I would absolutely love to waste hours of my night commiseration over our rancorous red's lack of presence, I can't tonight Gamzee. I've got an issue with your moirail.”

Silence, and Vriska immediately regrets her phrasing. The unwary might think something was wrong—and it was, but just not in an expected way. As much as she hated to admit it, she had none of the skill at manipulation once a comm grub came into play. Even on the husktop she had a special kind of finesse. But without her empathy granting her knowledge, or the skill she'd developed in reading between the typed lines, Vriska was useless. 

“Everything up and okay?”

“Fine. I just called randomly for a chat and said there was an issue with your moirail for no reason at all.”

“Oh? Cool, sister. I ain't up for random chatting though.”

“You have the thickest pan, did you know that?”

“Kar says that too,” the purple blooded half-pan laughed. 

“Anyway, I kind of upset Kanaya this morning. Trying to make it up to her but can't think of a gift.”

“That's a wicked simple issue to deal with. Ain't a motherfucking thing. Get her some accessories. My sister all up and loves the wicked sparklies.”

“Accessories? Like ear dangles?”

“Try more along the lines of neck adornments. Something with a personal touch.”

“Okay, but I don't have any of the free time to shop.”

Gamzee chuckled again, this time throwing in a honk for good measure. “Better. Want a personal touch. Commission something for my moirail. She won't care that it ain't done yet. Just the idea of it and the wait will be a pleasure.”

“Sometimes, Gamzee, I think you're a lot wiser than you come across as.”

“What a miraculous thing to say. But, shit girl, I've got a client in give with a dinner with Goatad after that. Best be all up and getting my professional on.”

“Now that'd be a sight to see.”

“Then up and get the wicked vision on, my clade sister. Up and see the miracle of a guidance adjustor getting his work on.”

“Another time. A very other time.”

She didn't even give Gamzee a chance to disconnect, just removed the comm grub from her ear, turned off the frequency adjustor and returned to her husktop. A few quick searches online found the perfect jewelry designer, and she shot off a set of messages to him describing her desired design, a rough measurement of Kanaya's neck (more precise sizing could be gained through a more pleasurable examination later) and requested a time frame and cost. By the time he was ready to start setting up the block for the meal, she had a response back quoting a price (reasonable given her request) and a time frame (longer than she would have liked considering everything, but his claim of being backlogged made it acceptable). With all that done Vriska rushed off to change into one of her favorite Maryam designed outfits, and figure out where her matesprit kept the good tablecloth. 

* * * * * *

“Oh Vriska, what have you done?” Kanaya gasped in surprise as she peered into the dimly lit hive. The astonished look was lovely on her face, but Vriska didn't linger by the door she'd opened for her matesprit to admire it. Instead she guided Kanaya forward, hand at the center of her back as a foot slid the hive door closed and her other hand slipped the sheaf of work papers from Kanaya's hands. The papers were gently placed on the couch as Vriska led her fussyfangs through the hive and to the candle lit dining table.

With a graceful bow she left Kanaya's side and swept one of the chairs out from the table, then extended her hand to Kanaya. In shock Kanaya accepted it and let herself be guided into the seat. Once she was comfortably arranged, Vriska swept the bouquet of flowers off the table and knelt before her matesprit. She carefully laid the flowers in Kanaya's lap, took her hands once more, and kissed the back of it. 

“I'm sorry about this evening, dear. I had a bad day and took it all out on you. It wasn't fair. Forgive me?”

“You need not have asked. Sometimes I just wish you weren't so afraid of telling me things.”

“It's not that I'm afraid, Fussy. I don't want to run the risk of even skirting pale with you. Your thinkrapist would kick in, and once we flipped, everything would be wrong. I won't risk it. I pity you too red to risk it Kanaya. I'm sorry.”

Kanaya smiled, her face softening as Vriska spoke, and at last she just shook her head. “I wouldn't risk our matespritship like that, my dear. I was concerned.”

“Nothing but a bad day, dear. So, to apologize, I did this for you.”

“And it is wonderful,” she admitted. “Come, I have grown quite famished, and if I am correct I can smell the distinctive subtleties of Chef Vryson's pasta with herbs and grubsauce sauteed in green pucker fruit. It is my absolutely favorite meal.”

“I know, but I had one last surprise for you.”

“I wonder just what it is. Truly, Vriska, you have gone to great lengths for this night.”

“I had help,” Vriska admitted, moving to her own seat. “I've commissioned a gift for you. A neck adornment. It won't be ready for a while, and I won't spoil the surprise, but...”

“Oh Vriska! A new neck adornment! What style? What colors? Oh I must know everything if I am to make a garment appropriate to it!”

“All in good time, my dear. You don't want your food to go cold, do you?”

* * * * * *

She's standing in the middle of the meeting cave, and all eyes are on her. Her hand is still high in the air from releasing the dagger. None of that was as disturbing, though, as what she was facing. Before her Calgor was standing, the tip of her thrown dagger protruding from his body, and a stain of violet rapidly blooming out from it.

“You're no hierarchist,” Calgor accuses, striding toward her, staring her down. 

She tears her eyes away, only to find herself staring at her hands, covered in violet blood.

Again she looks up, and this time she's alone in the darkness, the only light coming from directly above.

Before she can turn to look around, there's a pain in her chest, sharp and demanding. Her eyes flickered down, and she sew a brilliant stem of metal piercing through her chest. Cerulean bloomed from the metal, and then a voice was whispering in her ears.

“This is what a traitor earns.”

It was Calgor's voice.

“NO!” Vriska shouted, sitting up abruptly, dislodging Kanaya's arm from where it had lain across her chest. 

“Vriska?” Kanaya gasped, coming awake immediately.

“Daymare,” Vriska gasped out, as much for herself as Kanaya. And yet, even knowing that, she still lifted a hand to her chest, searching for the blade, for the cerulean seeping from her. When her fingers came back clean she sighed in relief. 

“You have been having them more frequently in these past several perigees,” Kanaya observed, sleep creeping back into her voice now that she knew her matesprit was fine.

“It happens,” Vriska mumbled, freeing herself from Kanaya and the slab dressing cloths. “Better clear my pan before I try sleeping again. I'm going to get a cup of sleep balm brew. Need anything?”

“Less warming cloths if you are to be long. The slab is uncomfortably warm without you.”

Vriska chuckled as she rose, whisking one of the warming cloths back a bit for Kanaya's sake. It was weird to have to do it, too, when she thought about the first night she'd spent with Kanaya all those sweeps ago. Back then Kanaya hadn't been prepared for spending a night in the arms of a cooler blood, and she'd shivered something fierce. Vriska had always loved to sleep warm, so she hadn't had trouble with a warmer blood, but the longer Kanaya shivered, the worse Vriska felt. In the end she'd climbed off the slab, retrieved a warming cloth meant for the dark season, and they'd slept in warm bliss. Now, though, Kanaya was so used to sleeping with her colder matesprit that she could barely handle warming cloths when she was alone. It was so beautifully pitiful.

It made Vriska feel horrible about lying to her matesprit. No amount of sleep balm brew would get her to risk daymares again this day. Instead she went to the food preparation block and pulled down a metal receptacle of the sleep staving balm brew and set water to boiling on the heating coil unit. If she was going to be awake, she was going to be awake. So Vriska brewed up a double strength cup, abstained from sugar, and headed for the office block. At a touch her husktop came to life, and with it came a repeated, demanding flash from Trollian. Someone had wanted her attention. 

And the message was one she had been waiting for. 

 

twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling arachnidsGrip [AG]

TA: yo vrii2ka found the iinformatiion you wanted

TA: or at lea2t iim pretty 2ure ii diid there2 no iinjury or a22ault report2 but he2 the only one fiittiing the qualiitiie2 iin the area

TA: unle22 the troll iin que2tiion ii2 two fuckiing young two have maniife2ted power2 untiil thii2

TA: anyway here2 everythiing ii could get out of thii2

twinArmageddons [TA] sent arachnidsGrip [AG] the file "youowemebiigtiime.txt" 

TA: you 2eriiou2ly fuckiing owe me biig for thii2 iit wa2nt ea2y two get my claw2 on iit

TA: youre not even there are you typiical

TA: real fuckiing appreciiated arent ii

twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling arachnidsGrip [AG]

arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

AG: Thanks Sollux, this is totally helpful. Sorry I was l8 responding.

AG: Was 8usy making up with my m8sprit.

TA: totally diid not need two fuckiing know about your flu2h drama

AG: You're in one of your moods, aren't you?

TA: no vrii2ka ii am not iin one of tho2e mood2 iim ab2olutely feeliing fuckiing wonderful

TA: regardle22 of my of per2onal rii2k ii ju2t 2pent an eveniing elbow deep iin my maiinframe2 rewiiriing for the 2et up iid need for your reque2t

TA: and de2piite the 2y2tem2 hackuriity ii got out wiith the data you wanted and even made you a map and youre two bu2y flu2hfliirtiing two even appreciiate my effort2

AG: You're un8eara8le when you're like this.

TA: fuck you vrii2ka youre alway2 unbearable wiith your iiron2 and your fiire2

AG: And I've told you that you don't have to do this kind of stuff, 8ut you keep agreeing.

TA: how do ii 2ay no thii2 poiint iim all but part of your lowblood 2pyweb

AG: Don't even call it that, Sollux.

TA: but iit2 a tangled web you weave vrii2ka

AG: Never, ever, call yourself a low8lood around me, Sollux. Call me whatever you want. Have one of your damn mood fits, shoot your own foot off with your psionics to spite your fucking legs.

AG: 8ut N8V8R 8V8R talk like one of those hierarchist assholes. Or I will see you regret it.

TA: iid liike two 2ee you try

AG: You know what, Sollux? I'm TOOOOOOOOTALLY done with this conversation. I am aaaaaaaall sorts of done with it. Go and 8e a fucking shitsponge on your own time. I'm not involving myself in this.

AG: And get some damn pills or something. You fucking need it.

arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

 

There were far more important things to do than deal with a bipolar psionic. Far hotter irons in the fire now that she had the file from Sollux.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've been asking. You've been guessing. So yeah, here's the brown blood. Enjoy.

There was no time the next night to do much more than deal with issues at the manufacturing facility and the second she had been assigned a sweep ago. Plus disappearing from Kanaya's side so soon after the happened would be suspicious. Still, there was time enough in the night to manage what she had to, construct an excuse for her trip out of the city, and get everything arranged. And, when the sun began to set the next day, Vriska took her mended solar protection garment down from its hook, strapped her dagger to her thigh, and bundled herself up, making sure to grab her document case before leaving the hive. 

The land crawler she'd chartered waited just outside the communal hivesteam, and when Vriska climbed in the pre-programmed computerized voice croaked out of a speaker, requesting her desired location. Vriska pulled out a sheet and fed it into the scanner. At length the computer dinged pleasantly and the crawler began to trundle towards the distant plains land where her possible brownblooded target lived and worked. The trip, the computer display informed her, would take nearly two hours, so Vriska pulled some paperwork and an ink stick out of her document case and started to work through some paperwork she would need for the upcoming meeting with the brown. 

It wasn't like she could just come right now, and tell this brown why she was around and interested. This was how she worked—except in the case of Sollux—through indirect assistance. After all, the hierarchists couldn't give Vriska a problem for buying up the land or service of some lowblood they beat. She had no reason to believe the trolls she was always planning to work with—she always backdated documents—had been hit by her comrades when she was never given names, descriptions, or locations. And the ones she helped never questioned the windfall she offered them. Here they were at their worst—hives destroyed, their jobs ruined, beaten and broken and terrified—and out of the night someone appeared to offer them a new life, a second chance, and the funds to rebuild or heal. Thus Vriska helped them and they never knew what brought her there but the reasons she gave, which were always exactly what they needed to hear. Sollux was her exception. He'd sought her out, having put together all the data points in that genius thinkpan of his. He'd noticed a pattern, guessed what it meant, and figured out where he thought it pointed to. Then he'd found her and prayed. 

The task had been quite worthwhile for her too. Sollux had turned around after Vriska helped his guardian a sweep and a half ago, and set up her 'Sp8der We8.' Talented, observant, and crafty warn bloods he could trust, that he'd known for sweeps or met in person were harnessed together into a surveillance web that he managed, relaying suspected hierarchist activity to Sollux and ultimately Vriska to act on as she found appropriate and manageable. They even donated funds to assist her, helped her manage secret, shell businesses she used the funds from to help those hurt by hierarchists. Contests were won here, donations found there, and business opportunities where Vriska could justify it. 

This time it was a business opportunity she was going to offer the brown. It was all she could do to cover whatever unknown damages Calgor and his crew had dealt the poor guy. Well, maybe not poor guy. Unable to focus on the paperwork, Vriska tucked it away and withdrew instead the file she had received from Sollux and had printed at the office the night before. It was everything he had found in the registry about the brown, and some other information besides. Hopefully she could find something in the twice scanned files that would help her craft the perfect offer for the brown. Something that would tell her whether killing Calgor—in part on this troll's behalf—had been worth it.

Something to drive the daymares away.

It had been no easier for her to sleep through the day before this than it had the one before that. She'd snuck two sopor tablets before hitting the slab that Remium had been glad enough to secure for her from the pharmaculturator friend of his. There were suggestions in recent health mender blogs that the anti-violence tablets also reduced the occurrence of daymares when taken in slightly larger quantities. It hadn't been enough for Vriska, though. Maybe her empathy had been feeding on itself over day and feeding the mares. Maybe the healthmenders were wrong in their guesses for uses for the rarely used medication. Either way it didn't matter; she'd still dreamed horrible things. This time instead of Calgor it was her ex-kismesis. Terezi, in full legisticator regalla, declaring her guilty of treason against the system, the Empress, and her duty as a cool blood. It was Terezi that ran her through for murder, Calgor staring on hornless, finless, and his eyes a void of white as she bled and her bloodpusher slowly came to a stop.

The rest of the night she spent in forums online, arguing about nothing of consequence with wrigglers and trolls too foolish to know better.

Maybe after this she would sleep the day through uninterrupted. In the meantime Vriska looked over her file and worked on crafting a deal that would tempt the best beastalker into seeing things her way. 

* * * * * *

The crawler left her off at a refueling station half a mile from her destination, and Vriska transferred credits to the system to pay for the fuel. Once the computer understood it was to wait until she returned and input her custom code, Vriska gathered her things and began to walk the rest of the way to her target's hive. This was her final chance to go over the offer in her head and make sure it was tempting, and she was sure it would be. Who, after all, would remain here, so far from civilization when they could move to the city ring and make a more comfortable living? 

Far sooner than expected, Vriska found herself before a large, wooden fence about chest high, and she stared at it in wonder. Why was there one of these things, here, and blocking her path to the target? What in the Empress's name had Sollux missed? 

There wasn't much to be done for it, though, and Vriska scrambled—with no little loss of dignity—over the fence and beyond it. Huffily she smoothed her clothes, grabbed up her protection garment and document case, and continued ahead, though not before her action drove a pure white hopbeast out of cover. The creature bounded off at full speed before her, and something told Vriska that her approach would not go unknown. Probably better now. The other lowbloods—warmbloods she sometimes had to remind herself to her shame—she'd dealt with had always been skittish at first. Better he knew she was coming and had time to prepare himself before her arrival.

Too bad there had been nothing to prepare Vriska for her arrival. Sure, she'd seen the fanciful hive rising out of the pink of the night, she'd even been able to pick out the windmill and beast hive that marked this place as a functional animalmender's location as well as troll's hive, but nothing really prepared her for how she found him. The closer she approached the more Vriska could see a mob of white figures under a solarshade before the hive. There was a hootbeast high on a support, looking at her with its head tilted at a curious angle. A smallish hoofbeast pawed at the ground but seemed unfazed by Vriska's approach. Nearly an entire flock of tweetbeasts crowded along the wires that held the solarshade in place. A large, two-mouthed purrbeast was curled up, asleep, and basking the warmth of the moon light. And in the midst of it all, hopbeast in his lap, was one Tavros Nitram.

The photo Sollux had drudged up did the troll no justice. It had been taken three sweeps ago at the regular six sweep update that the psychic registry apparently did, and showed a young, timid troll with all the gangliness a troll that age had. This troll had grown out of that, growing into his body as much as he had into the large chargebeast-like horns that adorned his head. As a concession to how hard his hair must have been to manage with those horns, Nitram's hair was cut into a long-haired, free-lying mohawk that gathered into a hoofbeast tail at the top of his neck. His arms were well built with muscles suited to one who spent all their time managing animal charges and their care, and while his legs were covered with rough-spun, loose pants suited to outdoor work, Vriska was sure they had to be just as strong. 

Yet not all was well with the troll. His left arm was being held close to his chest by a rather rough looking sling, and it was covered with painful looking bruises. Worse than that was the state of his right leg. It too was roughly bound with sticks and cloth, and Vriska was positive from this distance that the limb was broken. There were other things Vriska could only tell from her distance because of her vision eightfold. His face and what was visible of his chest because of his low cut shirt was covered with bruises. And poorly tended cuts, likely because the pain in his injured arm had been too much to allow him much motion. More disturbing than anything was a wicked looking crack in his left horn, far too far out of the reach of his good arm to have let him pack it with healing plaster. There was little worse than a horn injury gone back, the soft inner horn being connected to blood vessels that lead straight into the thinkpan. A bad infection could easily lead to any number of pan rotting diseases, and all of those either killed or left a troll mad. 

There was no denying that Tavros Nitram, perhaps more than any troll she'd met since helping her wardmates, needed help. And Vriska might be the only help this troll got. 

Carefully she reached her gift before her as she continued confidently forward, and to her utter surprise, she felt that Nitram wasn't in the least worried by her approach. Sure he was confused by it, even intrigued, but he wasn't afraid. That was a first. When he reached for a padded stick at his side it wasn't even out of fear he'd have to defend himself, but in eagerness. For what? Greeting her? None of this made any sense. Did it maybe have to do with the fact he was surrounded by beasts—all of which were now watching her—and the fact that one cerulean wouldn't be able to do much against so many?

“Tavros Nitram?” she called, even as she watched the injured troll tuck the padded stick under his right arm, and use it to help him get to his feet while putting minimal weight on the broken leg. 

“Yes,” he answered, hobbling carefully forward half a step. “Um, no mean to be, uh, rude or anything, but who are you?”

“My name is Vriska Sekret. I'm a business manager in the city circle, and I've got a proposition for you.”

“Why?”

The point blank question was enough to throw Vriska off and make her stop midstep. It was a bad idea because it upset her balance and suddenly she was stumbling forward a step. Even as she started to fall her weight was suddenly being held up, her face buried in the hay scented fur of the young hoofbeast. Something, Tavros, had motivated the beast forward to help her. For a moment she stood there, mostly supported by the hoofbeast, as she hid her face in its rough white fur and hid the cold blush that had risen to her face. Here she was, meaning to impress the brownblood and sweep in to save him, and he stepped in and saved her from herself. 

Yep, this was going to be aaaaaaaall kinds of fantastic. 

At last she pushed herself fully vertical, quietly thanked the hoofbeast for its patience, and restored the cool, professional expression on her face as she looked at Nitram. He stood there, watching her with patient eyes, an underlying layer of amusement lingering in the air around him. Just looking at him, studying her carefully as she composed herself. The question still lingered in the air between them, huge and hideous. 

The lie was there in her head, in easy reach. The new manufacturing center she had acquired produced items for the maintenance of the beast companions some trolls kept and she needed an expert consultant. She'd fund his relocation of business and hive, in return for her assistance, and she would provide a healthy stipend to the move. Except the words seemed so far away now. The lie wouldn't suffice. Nitram had taken the worst a viscous troll like Calgor could dish out, and he hadn't even gone to seek help. He'd patched himself up as best he could, and gone on about his life. There was a strength here, quiet and bright, that she couldn't help but envy. 

“What happened to you?” Vriska asked instead of answering. 

“The waves can be pretty, uh, rough at times.”

He was lying, Vriska knew it, but she nodded sagely as if in agreement. She couldn't even begin to fathom why he would lie about it. What did he get from it? Did he think she would think less of him if he told the truth? Or was it that he thought her a hierarchist? Not that he'd be exactly wrong to believe it.

“Especially when they don't stop hitting.”

Nitram's eyes went almost imperceptibly wider, then they narrowed back a fraction. The beasts around him shifted nervously for a moment before going back to what they were doing as if nothing had happened. All Vriska could do was look on patiently.

“Yeah, I suppose you're right. Um, what did you say you were here for again?”

Once more the lie flashed to her lips, but for once Vriska pushed it aside and took the route she tried less: the truth.

“To help you.”

This was left hanging between them a moment, a delicate and gossamer web of truth that Nitram could destroy with a single word. Instead he half smiled and nodded. 

“I believe you.”

It was such a wonder that Vriska couldn't hold back a, “Why?”

“You know I'm a beastalker,” he responded, obviously not doubting that for even a moment. “What few people seem to, uh, appreciate about the powers I'm endowed with is that what the animals feel, I can feel through them. When they saw you they didn't, um, sense any malice or stuff like that. They say you're a good person.”

All her sweeps of practice, her carefully shaped facade and artfully crated lies and he saw through her with chirpbeasts. It was frustrating and refreshing all at once. Beyond Sollux, Remium and her clade, few people saw Vriska for what she was any more. They saw who she told them to see, and it was never pleasant. 

“Your beasts and I have something in common then.”

“Oh?”

“Two if you want to count the helping. Where are your health supplies? It's about time that you got some serious looking over.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I've got one or ten in the hive. Let me show you where.”

“Are you sure you should be hobbling around a lot?”

Nitram gave her a look that seemed to ask who she was to question him. Vriska raised her hands before her defensively, which looked silly with her protection garment slung over one arm and her document case in her other hand. 

“Are you even good with health mending?” he shot back, half serious, half amused. 

It was Vriska's turn to shoot him a look. While she knew she didn't seem the type, part of her training with daggers had been in dealing with wounds. Spided hadn't been sure of the value, but her mentor refused to teach her how to do anything without having the chance to teach her how to deal with the damage she dealt. She was no professional health tender, but she knew her way around poultices, balms, gauzes, and meowbeast gut threads. Her trainer even said her hand had all the steadiness it needed to properly patch horns, which came in part from her vision eightfold. 

“Well, you best start hobbling, Nitram. Your wounds aren't going to see to themselves for all that you think they will.”

“Tavros.”

“Huh?”

“You can call me Tavros if I can, uh, call you Vriska.”

“Deal. Not get moving. I haven't got all night.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bittersweet chapter for you. Figured if I gave you straight up sweet it would hurt your teeth. Ain't I nice to protect you?
> 
> Also, update has really motivated me. REALLY.

At Tavros's direction, and with the help of a fairybull Tavros fondly called Tinkerbull, Vriska found her way to a cabinet stocked with health supplies. She loaded an arm down with everything she needed and asked the fairybull hovering at her side—for she was certain Tavros was with it—where she could find horn plaster. The creature fluttered through the relaxation block, where Vriska left the things near Tavros and forbid him from touching them, and back out into the pale moonlight. Soon Vriska was returning from the stable with a container of the plaster, a handful of variously grained abrasion papers, and a small filling tool. With this she had everything she needed to set the brown to some degree of rights.

She found him where she'd left him, stretched out on the couch. What wasn't where she left it was a stool that now rested by the couch, and Vriska gave Tavros a hard look. Too bad the other troll excuded innocence. Something other than her gift told Vriska there wasn't a deceitful bone in Tavro's body. He was purely, refreshingly, honest. It was a true pleasure to be around him. Everything he felt he seemed to feel without restrain. It was enviable.

“So, tell me what happened.”

“What's there to tell?” Tavros asked as Vriska sat down on the stool, rolling up her sleeves. “I was walking the shore, listening for an injured cawbeast a seagoat friend of mine told me about. Suddenly there's a group of seatrolls all around me, and they were, uh, yelling at me for polluting their beach, and then they started hitting me. My friends, um, fought to help me, and drove them off. End of story.”

“That isn't everything and we both know it,” Vriska countered, carefully lifting Tavro's splinted leg and putting it on a pillow. She tugged her long dagger from its sheathe and carefully ct the loosely tied strips from the set-up so she could look over the break. “Could you send one of your friends for new branches? I want to cut them down and strip them as straight as possible for you.”

Tavros zoned out for a moment, then let out a sigh, looking up at Vriska once more. “Why do you care?”

“Because I care,” she responded, slowly easing one of the old sticks free. “Do you care overly much about the pants?”

“Uh, please don't,” Tavros gasped, fear suddenly pouring from him so strong that Vriska's head snapped up, her eyes drawn to his warm brown ones in shock.

“What did they do, Tavros?”

“It's just a break...” he said, weakly. There was something in the way Vriska was looking at her that was worrying, but Vriska didn't care. “Just re-set it and...”

“Don't lie to me. You're bad at it and it wouldn't work on me anyway. Empaths can sense lies.”

“Oh...”

Carefully Vriska slid her dagger under the edge of Tavros's pant leg, and with one quick cut she tore open the seam to halfway between his knee and hip. What she saw then was almost enough to make her sick. His skin from the knee down wasn't the same healthy gray as above, but a sickly, pasty gray-brown. Another swipe of her knife and the other side of the pant leg was cut open so she could roll back the cloth. The rage must have been clearly painted on her face because Tavros reached for her dagger-less hand and intertwined their fingers.

“Please don't, um, cry like that. It doesn't hurt.”

Cry? Vriska carefully raised her dagger hand to her cheek, brushing her fingers against the skin, and sure enough they came back covered in watery cerulean. Suddenly she didn't feel so guilty about Calgor. Maybe she should have left him to Veruna. What foul creatures beat another for fun? Left them like this? It was more than clear that the bones, if nothing else, were broken in in several places. But for as bad as it looked, it was a hundred times worse if he couldn't feel pain. Nervously Vriska reached out and prodded his foot, and winced when his foot didn't flinch at all.

“How long have you been walking on this?” she asked, trying not to loose what little cool she had left.

“Um, if you count tonight..”

“I do.”

“And the night of the attack, then about five nights.”

“What for fuck's sake would drive you to do something so foolish? You could have gone to a healthmender nights ago! You should have!”

“I had a hoofbeast about to drop a foal, a barkbeast with eating problems, and a pair of coobeasts with broken wings needing tending. I couldn't just leave them.”

“Does your life mean nothing to you? If the flesh rots, and I think it's starting to...”

“What happens, uh, happens for a reason.”

“No!” Vriska snapped. “Don't even try to tell me that this had a reason. I knew Calgor, one of the trolls who did this to you. He deserved a worse death than I gave him for it.”

Abruptly Vriska stopped talking, realizing what she had just admitted to. Someone as gentle as this Tavros would never understand why she'd done what she had.

“You killed him?”

“I didn't have a choice,” she moaned, knowing he'd never believe it. 

“Why?”

And there he went asking intelligent questions again.

“If I hadn't done it, he would have been tortured and killed by _her._ ” 

“It would have driven you crazy.” 

When she looked up, Vriska saw as much as felt understanding in his eyes. It was almost painful to see, and at the same time it was comforting. Tavros's fingers tightened around her own, and when he spoke his voice was low and soothing. 

“You've been blaming yourself, haven't you? I, uh, don't think you should do that. It was self defense. Not for another troll, but, uh, I'm pretty sure it was for you. Empaths and beasttalkers, we're, uh, similar. In a way. I can't stand around and let a beast suffer. And you can't stand by and let a troll. You share their emotions at every moment, don't you? Everything he felt you would have felt. It would have shattered your pan, right? You were well within your rights of self protection. I think.”

“I don't...”

“Then let me believe it,” Tavros all but pleaded, knowing exactly what she was going to say.

His fingers were still entwined with hers, and when he gently squeezed her hand the warmth she found there—both literal and figurative—was enough to make the memories less painful. It was like a balm on her mind, a soothing pap in her bloodpusher. 

“You can forgive me for the blood on my hands?”

“Well, uh, if your reason for being there was good. Not that I can think of a good reason to be among hierarchists.”

“How else am I supposed to find people like you who need help? I'm not there because I like it. The press of their emotions hurts but...”

“Wait. The press of their minds? Can't you block, um, block out low levels of stuff a bit? Your training...”

Now Vriska untangled her fingers from his, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Here was one secret she'd shared with no one—though now that Sollux had been in the psychic registry he might have figured it out on his own. The result of sweeps of hiding her gift made her something worse than just dishonest or an empath. It made her 100% illegal. Empaths, like psions, were considered highly dangerous trolls because of one of the applications of their gift. Strong empaths uncaring of who they hurt could bend their power to control the minds of other trolls. It was far easier to control a warm blood as their increased psychic potential also made them more susceptible to psychic attacks. For an empath to go unregistered, to knowingly go untrained and without ethical schoolfeeding meant she'd earned years in a prison hive, and only gained more the longer she hid.

But trained empaths were closely watched by the system, would be more closely watched by the hierarchists, would have their skills called upon by Veruna in terrible ways. As a wriggler she'd said nothing to her guardian for fear of what he would have done. Now she said nothing because of Veruna and the threat of prison. So she'd never been trained, never learned how to block things out, even though she'd learned how to direct her attentions towards one troll or another.

“I'm not trained.”

Vriska let the words sink in, waited for the look of horror to cross Tavros's face. Instead all she was met with was pity. Such plain pity on his gentle face, and dancing through her mind thanks to her gift. It was a kind of pity she'd looked for over the sweeps, and feared to find.

“You're amazing,” Tavros whispered, and she could feel he meant it. “You've taken this, uh, wonderful power, despite its cost to you, and you've struggled all these sweeps to bear that burden alone. And you've turned it towards such a goal, if I'm not, um, presuming wrong, of helping people the hierarchists hurt. You're fighting a group few trolls will admit exist in your own way. At great personal cost and risk. Yet for all the pain and cruelty you see, you still have the, um, pusher to feel when you see a guy with a messed up leg.”

The world was a cruel place. Vriska had always known that. She'd known it ever since she'd first seen her guardian raise his hand against Karkat and Remium. And how, here she was, tending to this troll who hadn't deserved what he'd been dealt, and he thought she was good for doing it. And the worst part, the absolute worst part, was that after tonight she could never see him again. After all these sweeps, at the point she needed it most, she'd found her fated moirail and she couldn't risk seeing him again. 

“Tavros,” she started to say, and he shook his head in answer.

“Don't. It'll hurt worse if you say it out loud. Just take what we've got. Make it enough. This night has to last us, so stick to the important stuff, okay?”

“I'm not going to leave you hurt here just to give you a chance to pap my pusher calm.”

“Then, uh, talk  _and_ mend.”

So she did.

 

* * * * * *

 

The arm wasn't in much better state than the busted leg, but this time she wasn't as horrified. Not that she wasn't furious. It was just that Tavros was already quite deft at calming her ass down. Unlike the leg, the arm might turn out to be salvageable, provided Tavros was willing to seek a professional healthmender and soon. Yet there wasn't much chance to argue that with him, what with her giving him an abbreviated rundown of her life as an illegal empath being raise by a hemohierarchist, then as a member of that same, loathed, organization. The whole time her attention was focused upon applying a poultice, sewing a deep cut, or wrapping some wound. As she finally approached the end of her story she finished re-wrapping his arm and turned her attention to the cracked horn.

“The worst part,” she said as she leaned close to examine the horn, “is that the longer I spend among them, the more I have to find ways to act like one of them, the more I start to think like them. I don't' want to upset the system, but I think in terms of low and highblood. Better and worse. I'm afraid that someday I'm going to say it in front of my matesprit and I'll lose her. I'll leave a trail of trolls I pity and hurt in my wake.”

“Can't you leave?” he asked. “Just stop attending?”

“She'd have them come after me as a traitor, take down my matesprit, my clade, her clade... It doesn't help that I'm connected to a mutant crimson blood. The leader, she wants him killed for an abomination outside of the spectrum. I've been able to beg off due to his position in my ashen quadrant, the emotional instability of his matesprit and the fact that said matesprit is moirail to my own matesprit.” 

“Why do this at all? What's the point? Hatred will always continue, as it always has. You can't chance the contents of a troll's heart against their will. The hierarchists will learn that in time. Why even try?”

“They hurt people, Tavros. All the trolls they hurt, shouldn't they be fought for? Shouldn't someone be there to help them? Shouldn't someone try to stop them? Who's in a better position to help them than me? I know when they're bluffing, I know when they're serious. No one could do what I can. I have to do this. No matter the price, the fight is worth it. I'll keep fighting, keep working because I can't just stand by.”

When she met his eyes again, he was smiling, softly, approvingly, proud of her.

“Then the risk is worth it?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then don't stop fighting. Never give up. It isn't, um, like you to do so, Vriska. So don't start now. Don't ever start. I'm sure your matesprit would understand if she knew.”

“She can't know.”

Tavros wrapped his good fingers in hers now, and Vriska lifted his hand to her lips, pressing a gentle, pale kiss to the back of it. His smile went sad then, and when his hand was free, he wrapped it around the back of her head and pulled her down to place an equally pale kiss upon her brow. With the traditional pale kisses their moirallegience was sealed, and Vriska could feel the pain in him at the realization. They shouldn't have, but wasn't that the story of her life? Full of shouldn't haves and never woulds? With a sigh she pulled away and reached for the tools needed to deal with the cracked horn.

“Tell me about your own life. We've got a bit of time still.”

“I, uh, don't think that would be the best use of it.”

“I've talked enough. Your turn.”

“Vriska, I...”

“I can't talk and deal with the crack at the same time. I need to pay attention, you addlepan.”

Tavros was silent for a moment a Vriska started to mix water into the plaster powder and stir the material into a proper consistency.

“Well, uh, I... Um... I'm kind of not normal.”

“Now he tells me,” she teased, still stirring.

“No. I mean, I wasn't, um, assigned to my guardian from the hatching caves.”

“You were reassigned young?”

“Not that either. I... he found me. I was the latest in this odd string of grubs found in the wild the night of a meteor strike. I wasn't support to, um, know, but my guardian wasn't the best at keeping secrets from me. One perigee we were out wandering, him teaching me about beasts, and we came across where he found me. So he told me everything. Said it was better that I know.”

Vriska nodded, resisting the impulse to freeze at his revelation as that would have stopped the stirring and would have let the plaster start to set. Soon there was nothing she could do but slather plaster across the crack, using the tool to pack it in deep enough to help hold the horn stable but not so much that it would inhibit healing. The plaster was the special sort that broke down as the horn healed, so she had to make sure it was anchored enough to protect delicate tissue, but not so hard as to put strain on the regrowth. Still, the damage would cost him several perigees of growth. Not that he needed it with how large his horns already were. They were enough to almost make Vriska envious. 

“So you're a mystery grub. And a pretty tough one too to make it to the surface and survive long enough to be found.”

“In my defense, it was the dark season,” Tavros laughed, then shuddered as Vriska blew on his horn to encourage the creamy orange plaster to set. “That, well, it feels weird.”

“Tickles in the psychics?” Vriska asked, knowing it was true. The sensation was awkward at best from her memory.

“Pretty much. But keep going. The sooner you get this done...” he trailed off, and Vriska frowned. She didn't need reminded. Didn't want it either. Her departure loomed over them like a doom, and even thinking about it was painful. 

Instead of rolling it over in her pan, Vriska reached for a piece of coarse abrasion paper, checked the firmness of the plaster, and threw herself into the slow process of smoothing the material down to horn level.

“Does this really have to...?” Tavros started to ask, and Vriska nodded. 

“We're pretty sure she watches me. Not always, but often enough that returning here is a risk I can't afford. If anyone asks, I was here to offer you a job consulting with my production facility designing home supplies for pets. You refused and sent me on my way after a long debate.”

“I wouldn't do it anyway,” Tavros said, his voice quiet. “I like it out here with all my friends.”

“Friends?”

“The beasts. They're gentle. They help me whenever they can.”

“Well, they better make sure to keep you safe in the future. I can't come out here hand help you like this again.”

“What about Trollian?”

“I'll give you mine, and I expect yours for emergencies, but that's it. Just the most absolute of emergencies.”

“Like, uh, what kinds? Fire? Flood? Empty chill box?”

“All of that plus earth shaking and wind storm all put together in one. All of the disasters in one. All of them.”

“Hierarchists at my door...”

It was too real a possibility to ignore, even though she wanted to.

“Contact me immediately then. Doesn't matter if I'm on or not. Someone will be there to help.”

“What about...?”

“Stop. Just stop, okay? I am tired of this. I don't even want to fucking think about it. This is hard enough as it is, Tavros. Please. Just... Stop, okay?”

“I will if you promise me one thing.”

“What's that?”

“Believe in yourself. Because I do.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Now have one of these critters fetch some paper and a writing thing. Gotta swap handles, and there's another I want you to contact first thing this morning...”

 

* * * * * *

 

arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

AG: I don't care what it takes. I don't care what I will have to owe you. 

AG: Lay claim to my first 8orn gru8s. Demand my whoooooooole collection of 8adass hats. 

AG: Anything at all. 

AG: Just do one thing for me, Sollux.

AG: Protect adiosToreador.

arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling arachnidsGrip [AG]

TA: what the fuck ii2 goiing on here 2erket?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late because was writing a paper all weekend, which meant all-nighters, which meant fucked up sleep schedule. Sorry.
> 
> In other news: Update really made me more excited to do this series. Super motivation GO!

It wasn't going to be a good night. Vriska resigned herself to that fact as she heard Remium calling after some troll who obviously wasn't having any of this 'Vriska is busy' nonsense. Not that it had started out all that pleasantly—except for waking up next to Kanaya, that was always pleasant. Despite the brownblood's (it hurt to think of him, of his name, so she avoided it as much as possible) assurances the daymares kept coming relentless and terrible. For all that he'd forgiven her for the death, Calgor's shade hadn't and Vriska hadn't forgiven herself.

Sollux too hadn't been the best company in the past two nights. For once she was preferring his manic moods to his depressive. At least in the manic he ranted and argued and snarked better. The rest of the time not spent discussing the sudden increase in hierarchist activities—Vriska was sure it had been motivated by her and Veruna's display at the last meeting—he was pressing her on her request about Tavros. No matter how he pressed, though, she evaded,, and just that morning he'd finally verified that one of his watch bugs was buried deeply in the brown's systems. No one would be able to hack him, to track him. Still, she wouldn't risk reaching out to him, or letting him know he might be able to talk to her. 

“Serket!” 

The bellowing of her name was only punctuated by the sound of shattering wood as her office door flew open from the force of a blow. As much as she wanted to wince at the sound—it meant she was going to have to replace the door—she kept a level expression, feigning absolute indifference. It was the best way to start off dealing with what came next. 

“You owe me a replacement. Again,” she purred as someone strode forward to fill the empty space where the door had been. “Do you never learn?”

'It would behoove you not to play your loorid games tonight,” the troll said, his voice deep, rasping, and already grating on every one of Vriska's nerves. When it wasn't his superior attitude, it was the hoofbeast pun language, and his odd tendency to make parts of words rhyme with 'blue' for no apparently reason. Gamzee said it was because he was proud of his place as a servant of trolls, but Vriska guessed at the real truth: it was pointless, pompous, and a guilty pleasure of the indigo blood. 

“I don't have any time for your games, Zahhak. Speak your peace and get the hell out of my sights.”

“Then explain to me the reason I was recently faced with a severely injured...”

“Remium, leave,” Vriska snapped, pushing herself to her feet even as she guessed why Equius was here. 

“But...” the olive blooded troll started to protest, only to shrink away from Equius after Vriska glared at him. Luckily Remium wouldn't hold it against her. He, like Sollux, was a member of her web these days. Trolls abused by hierarchists were willing to whisper secrets to him, knowing he'd gotten out from under the thumb of a hierarchist guardian. In front of most others, though, he kept up the act of nervous subservience, a facade Vriska had spent perigees helping him perfect. It allowed her a way to maintain a 'proper' highblood-midblood relationship and helped her protect an old friend all at once. Now, knowing what Vriska needed, Remium was likely ducking out of the office block, closing doors behind him. If he didn't, what came next would affect the productivity of the lines for the night.

And would would get out about what was bound to happen.

“Do not take such a tone with him. It is your duty as...”

“I don't give a whinny for what you think my duty is,” Vriska countered, smirking as she hoofbeast punned. It always made Equius cringe to hear her 'profane the majesty of such noble creatures.'

Sure enough he did cringe, and Vriska's purposefully viscous smirk grew wider as he did. There was something to be said for the pleasure of watching him cringe. Such a large, annoying, simple minded troll laid low by a whinny. And there was no denying that Equius was a large, strong troll. While not by any means the largest or strongest troll she knew—there were plenty of older and thus larger violets and purples among the hierarchists—there was an undeniable something that made Equius different. For one thing, no matter how hard she tried, neither her vision eightfold or her empathic gift ever seemed to get a grip on him. Everything that went on below the surface was a mystery to her. She hated it.

Almost as much as she hated him.

“I will not be distracted by your vulgarities, Serket. I demand your explanations as to what you have done.”

“If you have a problem with my changing the composition of the plastics...”

The thing most trolls didn't notice when they saw Equius was that he was built for speed. They saw the bulk of his arms, and his blood color and assumed his strength was in his arms. Once that might have been true. From what Sollux had found out, Equius had gone through a lot when he was younger. About one in every thousand indigos were born with some issues with their pan's control over their bodies. It meant many different things, but in Equius it had manifested as an inability to control his own strength. His body had been capable of great displays of strength, but only because his body did not know how to prevent them. Apparently it was hell on the muscles, and until he'd gotten training, therapy, and medication, he'd had to deal with too great strength that destroyed things around him and frequently tore his own muscles in the display. Luckily he healed with all the rapidity fo a cool blood. 

Now, though, Equius knew how to channel his strength, and it was impressive to see it put to use. His legs were excessively long, even for his height, and in two strides he was across the block, his hand wrapped around her neck and just tight enough to be painful. His other arm easily swept the desk from between them, and one final stride found Vriska wincing in pain as her back was slammed up against the block wall, only the tips of her toes still touching the ground. There was a fury in his indigo eyes, fury only framed by his glasses, that much was plain to any troll who could see. His teeth were grinding together hard enough that she could almost hear it, and in his hands she could feel the tremble of barely suppressed fury. Which was pretty much how she liked him to be. 

“Do not play games with me. I will not stand for it.”

“You can't stand for someone sneezing in your direction, so I'm not surprised you can't stand for other things.”

The words armed her a tightening of Equius's fingers, but that didn't' last long. Even as Equius started to tighten his grip, frowning in displeasure, Vriska jerked her arm to the side just so, smirking in satisfaction as she felt the knife slide from her arm sheathe and into her hand. There was a moment of pleasure tinged with pain as she wrapped her fingers around the hilt of the dagger. Then, smirking wider, she lashed out with the blade, delighting as it, just for a moment, met flesh. There was the scent of blood in the air as the hand left her throat. Her smirk grew wider as she noted Equius was now a comfortable distance away, a hand pressed at his side, hiding what was likely a cut in his shirt and a superficial wound. If there was one advantage to Equius, it was that whatever kept her from reading him also kept her from sensing his pain. Made him the perfect kismesis.

“You loonatic!” he gasped, though there was more anger in his voice than shock.

“Says the troll who was just trying to strangle me. Would you like to try again? I'm better prepared.”

“You would bring blades into this?”

“You would kill me for what?”

“You well know the crimes you have committed. Or must I number them for you?”

“Oh please, number them. You know I have such a problem keeping count with how high it's gotten.”

That put a snarl on Equius's face. For all that he was a genius with machines and tech, in all the time they had known each other the older troll had never bested Vriska in a battle of words. There she had all the victories. Made their kismessitude that much sweeter and balanced. Then again, Vriska preferred it when the scales were tipped in her favor. Why else had she kept herself out of physical fights with him until now? She hadn't wanted him to know she felt confident that she could at least hold him off in a fight. But there was something in his directness that promises issues if she didn't finally come out with some fraction of her skill.

“Then you claim no part in what happened to one Tavros Nitram?”

Which was exactly what she'd feared this would be about. For a moment she regretted putting Tavros in touch with her kismesis, but that was quickly pushed aside. Equius was, if nothing else, the best prosthesis creator in any real distance, and a skilled healthmender at that. If any troll could save Tavros from his quiet foolishness and still let him keep his independent life, it would be Equius. Somehow, though, Equius had figured a connection between Tavros and her and was trying to put the blame for his injuries at her feet. 

“What are you rambling about now?”

“Do not feign lack of knowledge with me. He let your name slip when he came to me. What slight did he give you? Did he refuse to allow you to command him like a drone? Was that why you thought it needful to ruin his leg?”

Well, this was good news as much as it was bad. At least she knew Tavros had listened to her insistence that he turn to Equius. He hadn't, though, remember to not mention her name. The only question now was how to get more information out of Equius while not getting herself killed, losing her kismesis, or letting slip that she wasn't actually a hierarchist. Their pitch romance had started with Equius praising her for assisting her wardmates against her guardian, but lecturing her on letting it go on and at the same time for turning against the guardianship system. It had been so infuriating that Vriska had let slip that she had wanted Spided caught in the worst way possible, which had gotten Equius angry. From there she'd had fun implying that she'd done it for what she could get when her guardian was punished. After that their relationship had bloomed. Equius—though she suspected this was only on the surface—hated her for suspected connections to the hierarchists, or at least sympathies towards them. What really connected him to her in hate was the fact that—this she had from Gamzee—she was so superior, so conniving, so deceitful that it was an offense to the system he so esteemed. 

The reason she hated him was because he followed it so blindly. Sure, the hierarchists were bad, but Vriska was uniquely equipped to see things below the surface of the system. She could see the underlying spite some warm bloods had for their short life spans and the condescending way the cool bloods tried to provide for them. Cool bloods, on the other hand, found the expectation of service to be draining on their desires to do other things. The system was flawed, and rotting from the outside in now that the hierarchists were stepping up their activities. And yet Equius was so blindly devoted to it that she wanted to punch him in his face until he fell over. 

Part of her wondered just how furious Equius would be if he ever found out that some of the trolls he was friends with were hierarchists. The funny thing was that the two he'd always thought were hated the hierarchists too. Vriska loathed everything they fought for and worked to destroy it from the inside. Eridan, a violet blooded member of the planetary guard, spoke very loudly against the system and had earned Equius's ire for it. Luckily Gamzee had stepped in to deal with that farce. Equius thought Eridan was a hierarchist, not knowing Vriska had talked him down from that path three sweeps back. While Eridan had his own reasons to hate the system, they weren't the kinds Equius should hate him over. 

“Oh. That brown. Well, I'll tell you that his injuries aren't my doing. I just wanted to get him to sell me his advice for a new line of products. Sure, I was going to short sell him on it, what's the point in wasting good credits on a beasttalker, but I didn't beat him. What kind of use would he be as a spokestroll if he's crippled. He was no use to me, so I left him behind.”

“He said you...”

“He said I sent him, right? I was bored, and figured that you could use something to brighten up your miserable existence. It's not like you ever do anything important anyway. Live and breathe your fucking work. Never seek out things for your own advantage. It's disgusting. What kind of troll are you?”

“One loyal to the system, unlike you.”

“Just because I don't see any problem in being out for myself doesn't mean I'm a threat to your precious system, Equius. You're far more of one than I am. What troll in their right mind barges into another's office block and tries to kill them? I should call you in for this.”

“If you did, I'd tell them...”

“What?” Vriska laughed, advancing on him with her dagger twirling in her hand. “That you attacked me without provocation? Because that's all you're going to get. The pathetic brown won't speak against me no matter what you offer him...” In part because she hadn't done anything. “And you don't even have ANY of the proof you're always claiming about wrong doing on my part. I know. I'm too good to let you find it.”

“You... You will pay for this one day, Serket. I swear it.”

“Get out of my office and get over yourself, Zahhak. Do whatever it is that makes you happy. Go pail a hoofbeast if I care. Oh, maybe the brown will help you with that. He's got a way with beasts. Fuck, maybe he does it himself. Won't that be a wonderful bonding exercise!?”

Equius roared in rage, and for a moment Vriska was worried she'd pushed him too far. Prodded the right buttons in just the wrong ways at just the right time to push him out of the hate that kept you striving to be better and into the hate that got you killing trolls. That would be a sad way for this all to end. The hierarchist threat going unchecked because she couldn't read her kismesis well enough to keep him from killing her. The moment passed, though, and Equius just glared at her, his eyes narrowed in the kind of hate she'd spent years cultivating, the kind of hate she shared.

“This is by no means finished yet, Vriska Serket. I will catch you and have you punished for the things you have done.”

“Better trolls than you have tried,” she snapped back. “Now scurry on back to your mewling moirail and have her coo and purr over how pathetic you are to not even get the upper hand with your kismesis. Just do it far away. I'd be sick if I had to see it.”

Equius was through the broken door before she even got the entire sling out, leaving Vriska alone with her trashed office. 

All in all, it was just turning out to be the most amazing night.

Not.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More more more more. How do you like it, how do you like it? Okay, I'll stop that now.

arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

AG: Have you ever h8d someone so much you almost thought killing them was a good idea?

TA: fiir2t of all, you 2ound liike a bad piitch 2ong

TA: 2econd, have you even met kk?

AG: Come on, no need to joke like that.

TA: who2 jokiing? the a22hole biit me for iin2ultiing hii2 damn faygo berry piie

AG: Pie is all sorts of serious 8usiness, Sollux, Didn't you know?

TA: iit2 dii2gu2tiingly 2weet

TA: wor2e when you put that 2wiill iin iit

AG: I kind of like it. Listen, it's cause he's lonely I think.

AG: That's the kind of cooking that his m8sprit does. He hasn't seen Gamzee in a while. Give him a 8reak.

TA: ii don't tell you how two handle your quad2 don't tell me how two handle miine

TA: anyway what brought up your black lament?

AG: Same as usual. Apparently the 8rown8lood said my name to him.

TA: the brown a2 iin tavro2 niitram, one bea2ttalker you wont talk about?

TA: the one you want me 2pyiing on

AG: Are we really doing this again? Is this going to 8e a thing that happens?

TA: you brought iit up not me

TA: why are you 2o touchy about thii2 2hiit?

AG: You wouldn't understand. 

TA: what ii2 iit that keep2 you around thii2 guy? and dont 2ay you arent

TA: iive got tracker2 iin your 2y2tem2 two iive 2een the letter2

AG: What? How could you?

TA: 2iimple ii ju2t open my program2 liike 2o and...

AG: Sollux, why the F8CK is my 8ackground displaying a picture of your dum8 smirking face?

AG: Arg! Why the F8CK is my text this garish shade of yellow?

AG: Dammit! F8X TH8S N8W!!!!!!!!

TA: there, 2ee? all better

TA: liike ii 2aiid ii 2aw the letter2

Vriska sighed and pushed herself back from her husktop for a moment. Well, if there was any damaging evidence about her connection to Tavros, Sollux would have been the one to find it eventually. And he had in the form of the letters. The last three nights had been hard, and she'd missed the contact she'd shared with Tavros, the comfort of his words. So she'd written the things she would have said down. The stories she would have told. Secrets she would have shared with him given more time. Sollux having them meant he knew more about her than anyone was ever meant to know.

TA: you there? 

TA: takiing your tiime proce22iing?

TA: ii can under2tand that

AG: You agreed to help me, when you started to monitor my husktop to protect our We8, not to spy on me.

TA: chiill already geez

TA: ii diidnt read much what do you thiink ii am?

AG: Sometimes I wonder. Why are you even telling me this?

TA: ii know iim goiing two regret thii2 but... iif you need 2omeone two talk two ii am here

AG: Like you'd really want to listen.

TA: what do you thiink the web ii2 goiing two do iif you lo2e iit?

AG: Look to your scrawny ass?

TA: the empre22 doe2nt 2eem two care abut fiightiing them and ii dont have your iin2iide iinfo two lead u2

TA: 2o we need you 2table and ready two put that conniing thiinkpan of your2 two u2e

AG: You mean cunning.

TA: ii dont youre a con plaiin and 2iimple

TA: at lea2t youre the kiind who u2e2 your eviil power2 for good liike iin that 2hiitty heii2t 2how kk watche2

AG: That show is ALL of the awesome. Don't insult Directed Application of Force. Oh, it's on this morning too. Can't miss it!!!!!!!!

TA: ta2tele22 hethen2

TA: anyway what iim 2ayiing ii2 iif you need 2ome troll two talk two not a real 'raiil miind you ju2t tell me

TA: youre two iimportant two go mad iin your on damn pan becau2e you cant 2ee 2ome pathetiic bea2ttalker

AG: I'm not sure what's going on, 8ut I'm just going to file this away under confusing shit I will think a8out another time and for now pretend it makes sense.

TA: whatever ju2t dont complaiin that ii never told you

twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling arachnidsGrip [AG]

arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

AG: Guess what time it is!!!!!!!!

CG: I FUCKING SWEAR IF YOU SAY WHAT I THINK YOU'RE ABOUT TO SAY I SWEAR I WILL LET TEREZI DO WHATEVER SHE WANTS TO YOU, QUADRANTS BE DAMNED.

AG: Wow, did you even notice you swore twice there Karkat? Well, three times if you could the cursing. ::::D

AG: Really know how to make a girl feel appreci8d, don't you?

CG: IT'S NOT MY RESPONSIBILITY TO MAKE YOU FEEL APPRECIATED. ALL I'M SUPPOSED TO DO IS KEEP TEREZI AND YOU FROM KILLING EACH OTHER.

AG: And here I thought you cared. What a shame to know you don't. D::::

CG: I HAD TO KEEP YOU FROM GOUGING HER EYES OUT OVER SPIDED.

AG: You didn't have to deal with her sanctimonious, self interested, red gru88ing attitude all the time. You weren't even aware it was there.

AG: Regardless, that is AAAAAAAALL in the past now. ::::D

CG: WHATEVER, WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT THIS EARLY IN THE NIGHT?

AG: Early?

CG: YOU'RE FUCKING JOKING RIGHT? ONE OF THOSE STUPID, NO ONE LAUGHS AT THEM KINDS OF JOKES THAT EVERYONE FEELS AWKWARD ABOUT BECAUSE THE JOKE TELLER IS OBVIOUSLY LACKING IN THE PAN BUT NO ONE WANTS TO TELL THEM.

CG: THAT IS OBVIOUSLY WHAT YOU'RE DOING HERE BECAUSE YOU SURE CAN'T HAVE FORGOTTEN THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SOLAR EXPOSURE HOURS ON DIFFERENT PARTS OF BEFORUS. AGAIN.

AG: Whoops.

CG: WHOOPS? WHOOPS? THAT IS ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?

AG: No. O8viously you are quite cra88y when you first wake up. Have you not even had a chance to get some Faygo in you?

AG: 8ecause man do you need to, how does Gamzee put it, 'all up and get your motherfucking chill on.'

CG: DON'T. 

CG: JUST DON'T EVEN GO THERE. WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT?

AG: Sigh. Fine. 8e that way why don't you. May8e I didn't even want to talk to you. May8e I have 8etter things to do.

CG: GREAT. LAST THING I WANTED. MY MORNING ROUTINE RUINED BY SOME FUCKING FUSSY BADGERING PEST WITH NO REAL REASON OTHER THAN TO GET A DAMN CHUCKLE. JUST WHAT I NEEDED. LET ME TAKE A MOMENT TO CELEBRATE. THERE, I'VE GOT A PARTY CELEBRATION DEVICE MY FUCKING HIVEMATE DECIDED WOULD BE FUN TO WIRE TO MY BLOCK DOOR TO SCARE ME WHEN I GOT BACK HOME LAST NIGHT.

CG: WHAT A DOUCHEBAG. AS IF THAT WOULD FREAK ME OUT WITH HOW MUCH GAMZEE HONKS.

AG: OOOOOOOOh, what is this I hear? Is that some 8lack in the air I see?

CG: NO. I AM NOT EVEN BEGINNING TO GET INTO THIS WITH YOU.

AG: Why not? D::::

CG: NEWS FLASH: I'M NOT HERE TO FUCKING ENTERTAIN YOU. NONE OF US ARE. SO GET SCHOOLFED ON THE WICKED TRUTH.

AG: Oh geez, you are getting waaaaaaaay too much from Gamzee. Spare me. One of him hanging around my hive is enough!

AG: Remind me not to pester you when you've just woken up in the future.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling arachnidsGrip [AG] 

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling arachnidsGrip [AG]

CG: CAN'T YOU EVER LET ME GET IN THE LAST FUCKING WORD?

AG: Nope ::::D

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling arachnidsGrip [AG]

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling arachnidsGrip [AG] 

CG: FUCK YOU!

AG: Oh Karkat, you can't win!!!!!!!!

CG: WHATEVER. FUCK THIS. 

AG: L8r, Karkat!

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling arachnidsGrip [AG]

Vriska smiled at the final sign off of her friend on the trollian window, and shook her head. What an ass. That said, he'd earned it. He'd gone through so much, put up with so much, and finally been able to free himself from it. All the anger of their wrigglerhood, righteous and aimed at the world that let a mutant like him exist, had changed into something else after Spided was put away. Maybe it was more habit than anything. More than once she'd seen him soft and quiet with his moirail or matesprit. She didn't doubt there was a gentle, feeling troll under all that aggression. If there wasn't, how had Goatad been able to convince the eminent Cyclos Anders to take Karkat for training? How would he achieve his dream without that deep down pity?

This was what she was fighting for. Trolls like Karkat and Aradia being given the freedom to follow their dreams despite their blood. To protect Sollux from having to watch the trolls he cared about die because they weren't strong enough to protect themselves in the ways he could. So Remium would never have to suffer through what Spided had done to them ever again. To keep Tavros from ever having to feel a hate guided blow from someone other than his future kismesis, if he even chose to have one. The cost to her wasn't important, not if she could give them the peace they deserved. The peace ALL of them deserved. Kanaya, Gamzee, Eridan, even Equius deserved a Beforus they could be proud of. 

Beforus wasn't going to become that kind of world on its own. There were always bigger 'fish to fry' than some 'made up' revolution, or so Eridan claimed. Which was true enough. The planetary guard was damn good at keeping it under wraps, but it wasn't like Beforus's closest neighboring planet was all that friendly. The Empress had too much to focus on to give her attention over to only rumors. There had to be proof. There had to be something that could be taken before the Empress and the Heiress to make them see just what Veruna was doing, just what she meant to do. 

And Vriska was going to find that thing if it killed her. 

With a sigh she pushed herself back from her husktop, taking a moment to power it down before standing. Her friends would still be here when she got back if she handled things properly. And she would. Nothing would stand in her way. Not violets who dared raise their hands against seemingly defenseless brown blooded. Not a psychotic fuchsia who thought Beforus should dance to her tune. Not all the psychotic hierarchists on all of the planet. She had a reason to fight. A reason to win. And there was no way in the world that Vriska was going to let anyone beat her. 

* * * * * *

“Vriska! Dear, what a wonder to see you,” Veruna called as Vriska slipped through the crack in the rock and into the meeting room. “I have a little gift for you for your kindness of doing away with that useless piece of flesh last time. Come. Come see it my dear.”

With a sigh Vriska continued further into the room, half thankful and half annoyed that the others present all gave her wide berth. At last she came to stand before the crazy fuchsia, forcing her eyes not to search for the hints of violet on her blood splattered white gown that were from Calgor. Veruna was smiling, far too wide for Vriska's liking, and behind her was arranged a selection of indigo and purple bloods, all looking at something behind the would-be-Empress, but also blocking whatever it was from Vriska's sight.

“Move!” Veruna barked once Vriska reached her side, and sure enough the trolls moved aside. 

“It's for you, my dear. Do with it what you will,” Veruna said, her voice a low, musical purr. 

All Vriska could do was watch and try to hide her horror as the beaten and bloody face of the maroon blooded troll sprawled on the floor turned toward her and looked up in terror and resignation. 

“Do have fun with it.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. If you weren't sure, shit is about to hit the fan.

She looked a bit like Aradia, Vriska noted as she stared down at the battered troll. Sure, there were differences—the troll's horns were more forward set on her head, only curled about half of the way around then twisted back into a sharp point—but there was more resemblance than just the blood color. Her eyes were the same shape, also filled in with the rich color of her blood, and her hair hung long, if limp, around her face. She looked gentle, sweet, undeserving of what was obviously to come. Aradia, though, never would have come to a place like this unless she willed it. The psychic powers that had helped to save Karkat a while back had only grown stronger with time, as freakishly strong as Sollux's psionics. Of course, Vriska had all of that from hearsay as it were. She'd only ever met Aradia once before, when a group of them had gotten together to see Karkat off for his internship. Yet she could still see the similarities here, in this poor girl who had been forced to suffer.

Whose suffering would soon end.

The simplest truth of the matter was that the girl was going to die. There was no avoiding that fact. If she had been brought here, into the presence of Veruna, her life was over unless by some miracle the Empress and her peace keepers entered now. And even then she might not survive what would come. The question was whether Vriska was going to live through to the end of the meeting. This was obviously another test. Veruna was fond of them, far too fond. The problem was that this was the kind of test that Vriska couldn't bluff her way through. This wasn't the kind she could blow off or survive by sheer force of will. This time there would be blood on her hands, and not the kind she could forgive herself for. This wasn't Calgor they were talking about, killed to protect herself. This was an innocent, a maroon grabbed off the streets who not only had to die by her hands, but had to do it in a spectacular enough way for Veruna not to suspect Vriska. 

The very idea made her want to shake. Not that she could. She had to be strong. She had to pull this off flawlessly or she would die. Everyone she knew would die. If she failed, it might as well have been Aradia before her for all that she could protect anyone. The only question was whether she was going to be able to do what she had to. 

“Well, my dear, what do you think of your gift?” 

“How did you know just what I wanted?” Vriska countered, forcing fake amusement into her voice as she approached the beaten lowblood. “You're always so kind to me.” 

“You were so kind as to take care of that blatant waste of seadweller blood for me. The least I could do was repay your delightful antics upon my behalf.” 

“It was more for me than you,” Vriska grumbled. Still, she knew what was expected, and she took a moment to unclasp her solar protection garment. Calgor's blood had been one thing. What would happen next would be something entirely different if Kanaya saw even a speck of blood. Defending oneself from a cold blood and a warm blood were two different things. 

With a flick of her wrist she tossed the garment aside, making sure it twisted and flared in the air to catch as many eyes as possible. Better to be showy. Better not to let them see her sweat. Or hesitate. Plus she could always use the moment to think. What was she supposed to do? How could she kill this troll as flashy as possible without going mad? 

The cloak fluttered to the floor, and Vriska had to move. Her dagger came out, spinning easily through her fingers as she knelt by the maroon blood, smiling as wide and cruel as she could manage. Fear, pure, violent and poisonous in the corners of Vriska's mind, pressing in on her and demanding to be answered. Part of her wants to lash out at the source of the fear, but it won't do any good. There'd be more fear, mixed with pain, mixed with sorrow. Too many mixings, and her not prepared for it. 

“No,” the maroon gasped, and she raised a hand as if to ward Vriska off. 

“Fuck,” one of the purples mumbled, and as he raised a hand to strike at the girl, Vriska found herself caught up in a blast of fear that was almost like a blow across the face. All of her energy went into trying to suck air into her straining aeration sacs, despite the fear so intense that it seemed to constrict her chest. 

As suddenly as the fear caught her, it was gone. The maroon was curled up again in pain, the purple smirking through a hard sweat that had broken out on his brown. 

“Fucking psychics,” he mumbled, wiping his brow. “Thought we beat that out of her.” 

“That?” Vriska gasped, glad there was something more than just general fear going on. Her behavior would be suspicious if there wasn't. 

“Broadcaster,” Veruna sighed, obviously annoyed. “A strong one too if she hits the purples this hard. Don't worry, Vriska, it's no surprise that someone of your hue managed to fall. I won't hold it against you.” 

“Thank you, highness,” Vriska snarled, pushing herself to her feet. Apparently it had been bad enough to bring her to her knees. 

Stupid girl, Vriska couldn't help but think. How had she not been able to tell there was a psychic talent at play. She was usually so good at spotting those that might pose a risk to her. Something about her vision eightfold came into play, or maybe just luck. But it'd failed her this time. And in the worst way possible. How was she supposed to not only kill an innocent troll, but one who could force every moment of pain back upon her, amplifying what her own gift would already deal? 

“Damn you,” Vriska hissed, tightening her grip on the dagger. “Could have made this so much easier on yourself...” 

Could she have? Vriska didn't think so, but she knelt by the girl and lifted her dagger. Checking her grip one last time she turned all of the force of her gift upon the troll, lashing out with her empathy like she'd always heard a cerulean was able to do. The maroon gasped in recognition of what was going on even as Vriska's mind forced itself into hers, gripping it tightly and holding it still under the force of her gift. She could feel the mind she had pinned struggling, trying desperately to work itself free from Vriska's hold, but for nothing. The poor girl was a maroon, psychically strong but susceptible as well. Once Vriska had caught her up, the troll's mind and body gave itself over to Vriska's will. 

It felt wrong. Horribly wrong. As if part of her mind was trapped in another body, struggling to move in unfamiliar skin. The body itched around her mind, and she wanted to claw herself free of it. Claw the mind to pieces because she _did not belong_. Along the edges of her awareness there was a foreign, familiar presence struggling against her, demanding to be set free. Demanding control. But what did it know of control? How could it embrace this thing, this ill fitting form that clung to it as if it had a claim upon her? 

_Silence_ , Vriska barked, her words echoing in the mind, not the flesh world. And, surprisingly, the squirming around the edges of her mind ceased. That was almost more unnerving as anything else. Suddenly she knew, without question, that whatever she willed would happen. This body would obey her as readily as her own. More readily in some things. There was power here. This was power she hadn't even considered before, and was limited only by the forces commanded by those she laid claim to. So much lay before her, in reach, if she only choose the right tool. Veruna, the Empress, Feferi, all could fall before her if she only selected someone useful, like Sollux. 

The moment, but not the temptation, passed as Vriska tore her mind from the maroon's and brought the blade down. It easily pierced into her chest, and with a savage jerk fueled by her strength, Vriska tore the blade across the chest, ripping skin and even grinding through bone as she went. Maroon welled up from the flesh, pouring out and coating her hands in its heat. The girl's mind screamed out in her head, but Vriska squashed the emotions down, forcing them as side as coldly and efficiently as she had the troll's mind when she had grabbed it. At last the writhing, both physical and mental, ceased, and Vriska tugged her dagger free. Another slash, this one quicker, was lain across the troll's throat, more a precaution than anything. At last she stood and turned toward the nearest troll. The indigo, looking at her with something bordering respect, didn't even have time to flinch back before Vriska had grabbed him by his shirt. He protested, only weakly because he wasn't sure just what she was up to, until Vriska had wrapped her other hand in the bottom edge of his shirt and used it to clean her dagger in a few quick swipes. 

He didn't take being used as a towel well. With a growl he lunged for her, hands open like claws, and Vriska just ducked under his outstretched arms. Her free hand grabbed at his shirt once more, and with a twist of her hips and a pull of her arm, the indigo was sailing over her and crashing into the body of the maroon. It was the simplest of throws, but more than enough to catch a brainless indigo off guard. The trolls around them laughed or scoffed, as was suited to their natures, as Vriska reached for the purple that had been standing next to the indigo. She said nothing at all as Vriska cleaned her hands and arms. Like as not the purple didn't want to risk being made an example of like her indigo friend had. Bested by a lower blood once, even if it was a cerulean, and the shame would never end. 

“You're welcome to adorn yourself as you see fit, my empress,” Vriska said, almost shocked by how composed she was as she spoke. Composed and cold. And this time, she didn't even have to feign it. 

“Oh, aren't you just the most precious thing? Warms my fins just to see how well you are progressing. It would have been a shame if your glubbing idiot of a guardian had ruined you. And to think he kept you from us. How shellfish.” 

“He's not important. I've already dealt with him.” 

“I am well aware of that. He is beyond our vast considerations. No, I just believe it was wrong of him to deprive us of your skills. I do come to believe that you were quite right. Pan over might. And so I must make a demand of you, girl. Prove your loyalty to me.” 

“I think I've more than proved myself by now, Veruna.” 

“No. You've proven your self interest. You've proven that you wish to gain a place for yourself, that you are willing to go to great ends to achieve power for yourself. You are sharp like coral, both of pan and tongue. You are exactly what I need. But I need to be shore of you dear...” 

Things were getting serious. It was easy enough to tell, with or without an empathic gift. Once the fishy language started, all questions were answered. Serious business was happening whether it was wanted or not. 

“Just get past the glubbing and tell me what you want.” 

“I want proof, dear. Proof that you are tied to us. That you throw yourself in with our lot. I want your thinkpan dear. It would serve us well. So I've a task for you.” 

“Anything, my lady.” 

“We'll see, dear. We'll see.” 

“Just get to it before I die of boredom.” 

Veruna nodded and gestured to the purples and indigos still assembled near her. “Deal with the body. You are with me.” 

In silence Vriska followed the older troll to a rarely used corner of the room, far away from the others assembled. The would-be Empress gestured for Vriska to seat herself on one of the cut stone chairs, and took her own seat, snapping her fingers as she did. A violet quickly rushed over, pulling a wine pouch from under his cloak and moving to pour into two cups Veruna seemed to pull from thin air. One Veruna kept in a seemingly delicate hand. The other she held out to Vriska. There was no refusing it, so Vriska took the liquid and raised it in a slight salute to the highblood before taking a sip. 

“No longer to I care to float in the shadow of my sister. Too long has she sat comfortably in a throne that should be mine. Too long has she indulged the disgusting lowbloods and their desires. Too long have I held back my forces, waiting for just the right moment to strike. It was not until I saw you that I knew what I was waiting for. 

“It's the sinister thinking you possess, dear. You'd have cut Spided's throat had it better suited you. Instead you turned him over to my glubbing sister, and gained yourself some choice pearls. I would have you harvest them for me. Beforus is my oyster, and I've yet to claim it. While you shall not do the claiming, you shall be my messenger. 

“You will announce me, announce us for Beforus to hear. Consider it our coming out of our shells party. Set the stage for me, dear. And I want it painted in a multitude of colors of those horrid lowbloods, and the high sympathizers. You are to arrange for the event, every glorious detail. I expect you to present something fitting my tastes within the perigee. Fully planned. You may then choose a team of my trolls suited to your tasks, to prepare the party. If you please me, it shall be you that will speak my message to the world, and you will stand at my side when I finally reveal myself to my sister and all her foolish ilk.” 

“And my reward for this?” 

There was a chuckle from Veruna, not the scathing look Vriska had half expected. 

“Ah, yes. I expected such a question. You, my dear, shall be one of my generals if you please me. And dead if you fail.” 

“With an offer like that, my Empress, how can a girl refuse?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am. I've got it! Here it is! Your chapter, fresh off the presses.

“She wants you to what?”

As much as Vriska wanted to roll her eyes, she held back, knowing there was a chance that Sollux would take it wrong. Better that he not think even for a moment that she was joking. Of course, he did understand the seriousness of things in the very fact that they weren't doing this over normal Trollian. Sollux preferred that the most serious of business be done face to face, and had done some serious reprogramming on their systems to create an interface between Trollian and a video subroutine. It wasn't something they'd done in a while, and so when she'd gotten on Trollian after setting up the video grub and done the video request, Sollux had gotten all sorts of solemn. 

After the conversation she'd had with Veruna, though, Vriska had needed the advice of her number one conspirator. Only he knew what was going on, only he could really guide her in this sort of thing. Except she wasn't quite sure just what sort of guidance she needed. 

“You heard me, Sollux. Don't pretend that you didn't.”

“I'm just trying to get this through my pan,” he admitted, shaking his head. “Hold on, this sounds like a long conversation. I've got to do a few things first.”

Vriska lowered her head, resting it on her crossed arms as Sollux disappeared from the frame of the video. She was tired, so tired, from all of this. The second Veruna had released them, which had been several hours after she had pulled Vriska aside, she'd started the long trek home as fast as she could manage. By the time she had gotten back and set up the husktop Vriska had trouble keeping her eyes open. Yet, as tired as she was, there were things too important to be left up to chance, too important to wait. 

Still, here she was now, waiting for Sollux to get his act together. 

Okay, no, she totally shouldn't give him grief over this. There were precautions that had to happen before they could have any longer conversations like this. After all, Sollux wasn't alone in his hive. There was his old guardian Cyclos, and more importantly, Karkat. Apparently that kismesitude was strong enough that Karkat was likely to just burst into Sollux's respite block just to piss him off, and letting him know that Vriska was in contact with Sollux was probably a bad idea. Which was only made more dangerous by him knowing Vriska's voice well enough to pick it out even from the hall. 

So they'd set up a system for the times when there was no other alternative but to do one of these video conversations. The preparations ranged from the simple locking the door and using headphones to keep Vriska's voice to Sollux, to the more complex setting up a backup white noise generator so Karkat and Cyclos wouldn't hear Sollux talking to himself in his room. The things they spoke about when on a video conversation were too important to risk letting anyone at all hear. 

At last Sollux came back into the range of the video, and he plopped down in his seat. Familiar half black, half white headphones marked with Sollux's sign—a gift from Vriska—were soon covering his aural spongeclots, and with a far more tired look around his red and blue eyes than there'd been when the video had started, Sollux nodded to the video.

“Okay, tell me what happened. All of it.”

“When I came in, Veruna had a 'gift' for me. Turned out they'd caught a maroon girl and...”

“Fuck. Please, Vriska, tell me you didn't...”

“Of course I did,” she snapped. “She was dead either way. Veruna was testing me. If I let her live I would have been dead. I had to...”

She shook her head, trying to get the vision of the blood on her hands out of her mind. Trying to forget the psychic struggle. Getting her first taste of the corrupting part of her power, and enjoying it so much. Those were the kinds of things she'd never admit, even to Sollux. If he didn't know about her abilities, it wasn't like she was going to let them slip now. 

“Shit. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry for me. Be sorry for her,” she snapped, glaring at him. “I don't need your pity. I don't fucking want it. So can we just move on?”

Sollux made a little gesture, acknowledging her request. 

“Afterwards she told me it was time to prove myself to her. To prove my loyalty. She said she was going to make use of my mind. Then she told me what she wanted and... Well, you know the rest.”

“Fuck. This isn't what we wanted.”

“Not even in the slightest,” she sighed, lifting her head and leaning back in her chair. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Obviously this is the time to pull the fuck out. You can't do what she wants. We're talking about killing countless trolls here.”

“It's not that simple, Sollux, and you know it.”

And it wasn't. Failing to do this would be worse than never showing up at a meeting again. Never mind her friends being killed. They would be tortured first, in front of her eyes. 

“I don't even want to imagine what happens if I don't do this for her. Someone else will, and it will be far worse if they plan it. Everyone I know will be killed, including you because of your connection to Karkat. Once you're dead they'll have your system, and imagine just what they'll be able to do with that, Sollux. Everyone in the Web will be at risk, all their friends, all their families, all their quads. It's a chain reaction that we can't afford.”

“And on the other hand, if you do this, they'll be far more than two troll's blood on your hands. You know that, right? Hundreds, thousands if you're unlucky, will die for your misguided attempts to protect people.”

“Misguided? What's the cost if I don't do this, Sollux? Is the blood price any less?”

“Is a life less valuable if the ones you kill aren't ones you know?”

She hated him, sometimes. Hated him bordering on pitch. Hated him for being right, for being so fucking right about this. The cost seemed so much different when it was her friends on the line instead of strangers. Yet there was another cost that wasn't even being considered. If she wasn't among the hierarchists after what was going to happen, wouldn't it be worse? If she was one of them, if Veruna trusted her, Vriska could work to make sure that future attacks were hinted at for the Empress to act against. She could feed information to the royals once Veruna had finally revealed herself. Fuck, if she planned this one, wouldn't it mean she would be in a better position to make sure help was going to be quickly available for those trolls injured in the attack?

“They're valuable. Dammit, Sollux, you know they're valuable. Those trolls are as important to me as Karkat or Kanaya or you. But more than just them will die if we aren't the ones planning this. We owe them everything we can give them to make their deaths worth something. If I abandon this now, who will be there to tell the Empress what needs to be said once Veruna's in the open? She hasn't believed us before that she was alive, maybe refuses to admit it. She'll have to once Veruna strikes. She intends to use this as an announcement. To... Oh fuck.”

“What?”

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

“Vriska, what in the name of Beforus is going on?”

“It's an announcement. She's coming out and claiming responsibility after. And she told me that she'll have me at her side. I'm...”

“Going to become one of Beforus's most wanted for acts of terrorism. Vriska, you can't do this.”

What would Kanaya do, watching her standing there by the head of the hemohierarchists. Knowing that her matesprit had killed so many trolls... it would break her sweet jade troll. Equius would feel justified, she wouldn't lose her quad there. Terezi would feel triumphant, knowing she'd always been right about Vriska. Karkat... He'd be disappointed in her. There was no doubt of that one. After doing so much for him, to have her betray him like that would be a pain he couldn't handle. Remium, and the members of the Web, would understand. Would judge her, but they'd understand. And the Empress and Heiress, would never take her seriously. 

“Except I have to,” she said, all but in a whisper. “I have to do this, Sollux.”

“The price...”

“Someone has to pay it, Sollux. And I'm in the only one who is in place to handle the price.”

“The question is, can you really?”

“What?”

“Vriska, just... Listen to me for a few minutes, okay? I know you said you didn't want this from me, but since you've decided that you don't want a moirail and you obviously need one, you're going to shut up and listen to me, got it?”

“Sollux, don't you even...”

“I will mute you. I swear, Vriska, I will mute you so fast that your horns will spin. So shut the fuck up and listen. If you have to, put your head down and close your eyes and pretend I'm Tavros or something. Okay?”

She didn't want to. Didn't want to hear him, or Tavros, or let him talk her down. This was something she had to do. Why couldn't he just accept that? Still, she did what he asked, lowering her head to her crossed arms, and closing her eyes. 

“This is serious, Vriska. You know that. Sure, what we've been doing until now has been worth it. We've helped people. You know that just as much as I do. Cyclos would be dead without your ideas. Tavros too from what I understand. Who knows what would have happened with the case with your guardian. But there is a point where you have to step back and admit that you can't handle it. That the price isn't worth it. Is it?

“Think of just what this is going to do. Your whole life, left behind you. Even if we can then use the Empress and Heiress to deal with Veruna, in the end you have to pay for what you did. You'll be chased until the end of your days. They won't let you go just because you give them Veruna. And if they take Veruna alive, they'll have you for Calgor and the maroon too. What then? Dammit, Vriska, what then?

“We've put the work in for a long time, Vriska, but I think it's time to step back and let someone else do it. After all the good I've seen you do, I don't want to see you pay for it like this. I can take care of myself, and Karkat, and the Web. Leave all of that to me. If this Equius is really the kind of troll you've told me, he'll protect himself and Tavros. As for Kanaya, don't you owe her something more? Something better than seeing you on the screen declared a traitor to our people? See you hunted down and put to death?

“You owe her more, and this price, maybe this isn't one you should pay. Pack up, now, and take Kanaya and hide. Come here if you must. We'll fight to protect you. I'll fight, Karkat's moirail will fight. We can even bring Tavros here and get his help. We'll survive. But you have to let this go.”

With her eyes closed, it was almost like Tavros was talking to her. Like they were his words in Sollux's mouth. Except for the fact that she was pretty sure that Tavros wouldn't tell her to run. He'd understand why she had to do this. He'd mourn the cost with her, but he'd admit it was needed. What would it take to convince Sollux that this had to happen? That she needed him working with her to make sure this didn't go the worst possible way. 

“I have to do this, Sollux. I need to.”

He sighed, she could hear it faintly through her husktop speakers. 

“I knew that. But I had to try and make you see the full price. Maybe you already did, but I had to be sure. What we're talking about here is giving up everything. I need you to realize that cost.”

“I already know it, Sollux,” she said, lifting her head at last. “I know it more than you could even imagine. You don't even know how much it costs, can't understand. But I have to do this. Far more people will die if it's not us planning this. And you know it.”

“I do. I get it Vriska, I really do. It's just, this isn't the kind of thing I ever wanted to do, you know?” 

“I know, Sollux, Trust me. I know.”

He sighed again, the sound a hissing kind of whistle, and shook his head. “Come on, we better start working on this now. The more time we take to plan this, the better we can figure out how to work against it. Your night is mine.”

“I'd have it no other way, Sollux. Let's deal with these irons.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. I've got nothing. There is a chance that there won't be a new update this Friday. Not sure yet. If there isn't, do panic.

It became hard to focus on daily life when planning and coming up with a way to sabotage a terrorist attack at the same time. Not that very many people would ever get the chance to test that out in their lives. Apparently Vriska and Sollux were special cases. They were just racking up aaaaaaaall the special cases points these days. Go figure. It was just the thing that Vriska had always wanted to do with her life. 

Sleep became as rare a thing as Karkat's crimson blood. Not because she didn't need it, or because she didn't want it. Sometimes it felt like her body spent all its time screaming out for a bit of shut eye. But moments spent asleep were moments not working on, revising, discarding, creating new plans to try and make her assignment from Veruna look good but have minimal damage. More than that, there was a real reason to avoid sleeping: the dreams. As bad as they had been when it was only Calgor, they were a hundred times worse since the death of the maroon. Dreams of death, of pain, of sorrow, and worse than that, dreams of power, control, strength granted to her by reaching out and gripping others in the vice grip of her mind. 

She realized, one night as she all but fell asleep at her desk at work, that Veruna could not have found a better way to drive Vriska mad than asking what she had. Here she was, sitting in her office where she was supposed to be going over efficiency reports and putting in requests for another allotment of drones, and instead she was poking holes in the latest plan. It involved a showy display at a celebration being staged at the capital by the Empress, and Vriska didn't like it in the least. Sollux had suggested it was best because it gave the Imperial Enforcers a chance to grab Veruna immediately after her appearance. Beyond the fact that it meant Vriska could be captured instantly too, Veruna might smell a trap even as Vriska suggested it. There were logistical issues to, but what could be expected of a plan floated while Vriska was sleep deprived and when Sollux was bordering on that state too. 

With a sigh Vriska crumpled up the paper she had been scratching ideas down on, and fished out the incendiary device Sollux insisted she carry with her everywhere now—he was starting to be a backseat moirail over the last four nights—so she could destroy the evidence. By now she'd even figured out the best way to set things on fire in the office without setting off any alarms. Remium, obviously, had not appreciated the first one that had almost ruined an entire evening of paperwork. With a sigh that hid yawn, Vriska upended her trash bin, placed a plate on the floor, and deposited her trash on it. A quick flick of the incendiary device set the papers on fire, and Vriska covered the whole mess with the waste bin. Later she'd open the whole bundle up at the window, letting the smoke out. For now, though, she returned her attention to her desk and glared at her paperwork. None of it was going to get done tonight. There were other, more important things to do. 

She opened a new document on her husktop and sat for a while thinking about the exact wording she would need for what would come next. For the rest of the night she worked on the wording, coming up with the exact way that the document had to be written to get the results she wanted. At last she set it aside, intending to have it slipped into a normal stack of things needing notarized, then shut down her husktop for the night. There would be no point in trying to work anymore. With a sigh she turned out the lights in her office and slipped out. Remium looked up from his desk, frowning at her.

“Leaving so soon?”

“I'm not feeling too well,” she lied, easier to do than she would have thought when it came to her olive friend. “I think I'm going to head back to the hivestem and rest. Tomorrow?”

“Alright, but did you have a chance to...”

“They're in a stack on my desk waiting for you. See that they get notarized and filed, alright?”

Remium smiled and nodded, she knew she could trust him to do this. All she could do was hope that he wouldn't look at them too closely. So many things could go wrong right now, and this was just another one. Cross your fingers and hope that your luck holds. It was all she could hope to do. 

* * * * * *

They were out of sleep staving balm brew. Vriska stared into the nearly empty tin—her vision eightfold wouldn't let her not notice the lingering bits of leaves and herbs in the edges and corners—and almost wanted to laugh at the sight. What was she supposed to do now? At this moment the only thing she feared more than Veruna bursting through the door and killing her was falling asleep. She didn't want to see the faces that awaited her. Didn't want to see Calgor and the maroon pleading for revenge. Didn't want to feel the blade piercing through her chest. Didn't want to have to face her crimes. Some dreams were worse than memories. Some dreams were so real that you could feel them. The chill smell of Calgor's blood in the air. The terrible heat of the maroon's on her hands. In some dreams she wrapped her power around Sollux's mind, his red-blue eyes crackling with power as she unleashed him on her foes. Bodies left charred and broken in the wake of his immeasurable power. 

The thought of the dreams made her want to weep. 

The memory of the dreams made her actually weep. Vriska found herself sitting on the floor of the food preparation block, her legs pulled up against her chest as tightly as she could manage, her arms wrapped around them, and her face buried in her knees. Kanaya would ask her about it later, when she was doing the laundry and found the cerulean streaks on her pants. But that was a concern for later, for now all she could think about was the dreams, which would never leave her alone now. 

There was one option left to her, and it was almost as terrifying as the problem. Sopor pills. To calm her, soothe her, let her sleep the peaceful, dark void sleep that she needed. But the possible side effects... were they something she could risk handling? 

Yes. 

She was going to have to talk to someone to get her claws on some. Sollux might be able to help. She didn't exactly want to go to Remium again, it might be suspicious if she asked for them again. He only knew enough about the functions of the Web to get by, not enough to know about the deaths. That was something only Sollux knew in full, and Tavros in part.

Tavros...

Fuck. 

Vriska pushed herself up off of the floor and practically bolted for the office block. She couldn't handle this alone any more. She had to talk to him. Fuck the risk, there was more than enough to go around anyway. There was no point in protecting him now when she couldn't protect him before. Besides, Sollux was good, better than good, and if he was protecting Tavros's husktop then there was no real risk, right? None at all. 

It almost felt like it was taking forever for her husktop to power on and log her into Trollian. Then she was in, and it felt like her pusher was breaking. He wasn't logged in. When she finally admitted how much she needed him, when the stability of her pan was at its worst, he wasn't there. Maybe...

twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling arachnidsGrip [AG]

TA: vrii2ka what are you doiing onliine?

TA: ii2nt thii2 the tiime you 2hould be at work

TA: iim pretty 2ure that iim not wrong about the tiime diifference2 liike you u2ually are. 

She sat there for a while, staring at the text. Why did it seem like that garish shade of yellow was almost promising her something? What was it that Sollux had said? Would he really go through with what he'd said? Had the words been empty or genuine? Even a temporary moirail (temporail as Gamzee called it) was better than nothing, right? Hadn't Karkat felt that way? Of course, from what Vriska heard he was just grabbing what he could get from Gamzee, but did that make the pale support any less meaningful and useful?

AG: I can't sleep.

TA: well iit ii2 a biit early two be tryiing

AG: No, Sollux, you aren't getting me. I CAN'T sleep. I h8 what I see when I do.

TA: hate or fear

AG: Fear. A8solutely fear. It's... The dreams, they...

AG: I can't handle them.

TA: ii thought you could handle anythiing vrii2ka

TA: handle all of the thiing2 or however iit wa2 that you put iit

AG: Well I was wrong. Alright? I admit it. Does that M8KE Y8U H8PPY!?

TA: no of cour2e iit doe2nt why would iit

TA: vrii2ka iif 2omethiing ii2 wrong you need two ju2t come out and tell me

AG: Like I need to tell you a8out the daymares. You O8VIOUSLY read aaaaaaaall a8out them in my letters.

TA: ii already told you ii diidnt read them

TA: but maybe ii should have

AG: When I close my eyes I see Calgor there. Dead. His eyes are solid white and terri8le. He wants me to die. So does the maroon.

AG: And Terezi, she shows up and kills me for what I did. For 8eing a traitor to our people. I can F88L the 8lade, Sollux. Every fucking time.  
  
TA: geez yeah that2 kiind of a really good rea2on two not want two 2leep

TA: ii mean iit ii2nt liike youve got year2 of blockiing that kiind of thiing out

TA: well ii 2uppo2e ii could 2ugge2t 2ome 2leep 2taviing balm brew that cyclo2 u2ed two giive me when ii wa2 a wriiggler and learniing two deal wiith the voiice2

AG: We're 8UT!

TA: okay vrii2ka ii need you two calm down here  
  
TA: were gettiing two the poiint where ii cant tell iif youre typiing a b or are fliippiing out liike you 2ometiime2 do

AG: D8 Y8U KN8W H8W H8RD IT IS TOO C8LM D8WN?

TA: 2hoo2h you fuckiing iidiiot ju2t 2hoo2h

TA: youre fuckiing iimpo22iible two under2tand liike thii2

AG: 8ut........

TA: 2hoo2h

TA: now what were you 2ayiing about the balm

She took a deep breath, counted to eight as slowly as she could manage, and glared at the husktop screen. It wasn't like he wasn't a fucking genius and totally capable of deciphering her quirk. 

AG: We're OUT. I've 8een having a cup or two a night since Calgor's... Since Calgor.

TA: well that2 a problem ea2iily cured by a call two a grocer but let2 not do that

TA: two much of that 2tuff two fa2t can really fuck a troll up 2o well 2ave that plan for plan q or 2omethiing

TA: whiich leave2 u2 wiith you knockiing your2elf uncon2ciiou2 or 2omethiing more dra2tiic

AG: More drastic than knocking myself upside the pan?

TA: iim hackiing a mediical apiiculture 2y2tem a2 we 2peak 2o there wiill be a 2upply of 2opor piill2 deliivered two you by drone iin the next thiirty hour2 or 2o

TA: these are some pretty serious drugs just so you know so only take the dosage they list as often as they say

AG: And if it isn't enough?

TA: then rii2k the dream2

Not the kind of advice she was looking for, but something she could live with so long as there was the alternative in the pills. 

AG: Thanks, Sollux.

TA: thiink nothiing of iit

TA: we 2py2 have two 2tiick together

AG: More like spiders.

TA: 2ure enough

TA: oh and vri2ka

AG: Yeah?

TA: take care of your2elf

TA: ii mean iit

AG: Don't I always?

TA: iif only you could 2ee how much my eye2 were rolliing riight now

AG: A22hole.

TA: 8iitch

arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

Now the question was how to survive the next thirty hours? Or at least the seven until Sollux was done with his work and ready to discuss their plans once more.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, and I've got to tell you, we're getting close. Close to closing this baby out. Hard to believe? Well, maybe not. Still, close isn't there, and there is plenty left to happen. The thing is, things start to get faster. I promise cliff hangers, I promise chewing your lips, and I'm putting even money on you glaring at me for cruelty now and then. But didn't you see it coming? If you didn't, did you not read the story summary? Oh well, here goes nothing. And everything. All of the things.

The package arrived sooner than Sollux even could have guessed. Vriska had been spared dealing with Kanaya the morning she'd reached out to Sollux when an emergency had come up, forcing Kanaya to spend a sleep cycle dealing with one of her patients. The whole night Vriska had spent up with Sollux, arranging their newest plan of attack to deal with Veruna's desires with the least damage they could arrange. At last it was looking like they had found something that would really work. The details still needed some work, but it would be enough, it would be something they could handle. Something that might let her sleep at night after it all went down, provided Sollux's anonymous warnings to the Imperial security forces were actually believed. 

Their planning had been interrupted by the mail drone, and when Vriska rushed off to get the delivery of sopor pills, there had been not one box, but two. Confused she'd signed for her packages, retreated into the hive, and sat down with them in the entertainment block. Sollux could wait until she made it back to the husktop. Until she figured out just what this other package was. Except, Vriska was pretty sure she already knew what it was.

The first package had, just as expected, turned out to be Sollux's emergency delivery for her. The sopor pills glowed a faint, promising green in their bottle, promising silently to give her the relief she needed. As tempting was it was to just down a few now, there was too much that had to be done tonight, all of the planning to do, to give in to sleep now. Soon, soon she would have her relief. Deep, quiet sleep without dreams, wrapped in a void of memory, of feeling, of freedom. There was nothing she wanted more. Except for freedom from everything that Veruna was forcing upon her. Except for her life back.

Slowly, fearfully, Vriska reached for the next package, her dagger making short work of the adhesive strip. When it opened the package revealed something that made her pusher ache. A box, a bit larger than her hand, covered in rich, black crushed velvet. How in Beforus had she forgotten about the gift? She's spent hours planning it. It was going to be the perfect gift to prove to her matesprit that she cared, really cared. And here it was, arriving as she was spending her time trying to figure out the perfect way to destroy everything they had. Was there really a point? 

Yes. There was always a point when it came to her Fussyfangs. This could well be the last chance she ever had to let her matesprit know. Let her know she cared, no matter what came next. Hopefully that was what Kanaya would think of the thing. Hopefully when Vriska was forced to... No, that wasn't something she wanted to think about. Instead she opened the jewelry box, opening it to look upon the piece she'd had commissioned. 

Vriska's breath caught in her chest as she looked upon the creation. What she looked at was far more amazing than she'd even dared to imagine. Before everything went down she'd have to remember to authorize a bonus for the troll who had done the work for her. How could she not, looking at the magnificent, fragile looking working of silver wire and carved bits of cerulean colored lapis lazuli. The silver wove a seemingly delicate web, but Vriska knew that it was sturdy, strong enough to handle not only the weight of the stones it was set with, but more than that. At the bottom tips of the web hung lapis lazuli cut into tear drops, which would hang beautifully next to Kanaya's perfect, pale gray skin. And in the center, where it would rest right against Kanaya's shapely collarbone, was a larger stone with Vriska's sign cut into it and inlaid with silver. It was so easy to imagine it around Kanaya's throat, the sparkling, slender silver wires emphasizing the slender beauty of her matesprit's throat. Her beloved Fussyfangs would spend a perigee designing the perfect gown to go with it. Probably something in a deep, rich blue, shot through with silver and black mimicking the style of the necklace. She'd wear those long, black lace gloves Vriska so loved that went up beyond her elbows. She's be an image that other trolls would drool over, and Vriska would have to drive other trolls back with a stick. Not that she didn't enjoy fighting for her matesprit. The problem was that she'd never get to see any of it. 

She was careful to close the case and set it aside before she started to cry. The last thing she needed was to disturb the precious gift.

* * * * * *

“Where...” Sollux started to say when Vriska sat back down in front of her husktop, but he quickly trailed off. Fuck, despite her best attempts, she hadn't been able to hide the signs of her crying from Sollux. Perceptive fuck. 

“It's nothing,” Vriska quickly said, glaring hard at him. He wouldn't dare disagree with her. Wouldn't contradict her on...

“Bullshit,” he lisped at her, shaking his head. “If you think I'm going to fall for that line, you're touched in the pan. You were gone for almost half an hour. What the fuck happened?”

“Sollux, please, I am so totally not in the mood to deal with this shit.”

“Tough. Fucking get in the mood. Have you already forgotten...?”

“No. I have not even begun to forget your insistence on pretending to be my moirail,” Vriska snapped, shooting him another glare. Not that she thought this one would be any more effective than the last, but it was the thought that counted, right? “I'm tired of it Sollux. I won't have you fucking with my pan any more.”

“I'm not...” 

“Shut up shut up shut up shut up!” 

“Vriska, geez. Will you just calm the fuck down? Take some deep breaths or something. And then, once you've done that, clean the wax out of your aural sponge clots and let me speak my fucking peace. Got it?” 

It was easy to tell when Sollux was angry. It didn't take empathy, didn't take anything other than working vision to see when Sollux was mad. Something in being a psionic of his level meant that anger was a dangerous thing for him. Already Vriska could see energy crackling around his eyes, around his horns. It was something Vriska had only seen happen once before, the night she'd met Sollux in that restaurant, when he'd come to beg her help. Turned out Sollux had to train hard from when his psionic gift had first manifested to keep control of it, just like Gamzee apparently had trained to keep calm. 

To see Sollux losing it now was almost as disturbing as the memory of what Gamzee had done to Spided when he'd gone mad... It wasn't something Vriska wanted. So she sat there, staring at him, utterly silent. Better to let Sollux get whatever it was out of his system. The last thing anyone needed was Sollux blasting his husktop on accident and leaving Vriska to do everything on her own. 

“I've said it once, twice actually, and it's really annoying to have to say it again. Vriska, you don't have to do all this shit alone. There are people you can depend on. You need to depend on them if they are going to depend on you. This whole thing, it gets serious soon, and you know it. Can you really afford to keep having all of these break downs? We can't afford you falling apart. You're getting unstable. Vriska Serket, I'm saying this as a friend, but... You need a fucking moirail. Not in a sweep or two, not in a perigee, not in a week, but now. Vriska, leave this phase of the planning to me, and go talk to him.”

“I don't know who you're talking about,” she whispered, knowing he would believe the lie no more than she did herself. 

“Fucking masochist,” he snapped. “I swear that if you don't talk to him soon, I'm going to make sure he talks to you.”

“Sollux, I can't let him be...”

“If you think he's not willing to take that risk, then you're an idiot. A moirail will do anything for their quad. If he's meant to be yours, then he'll do whatever you need to get through this. And if he won't, he's not your moirail and you need to find another, fast. With what we've got to do in these next few weeks...”

Except she'd tried. The last time. A night ago when she couldn't work, couldn't sleep, couldn't think for the memories. When she'd needed him, Tavros hadn't been there. Sollux had. That was the long and short of it. How could she depend on a troll who wasn't there when she needed him, especially when a troll who had a harder time talking to her because of time differences found a way to make time for her. She'd tried, she really had. Wanted to reach for him, but she couldn't. So why should she now? 

“I tried, Sollux. I did,” she admitted at last, shaking her head. “He wasn't there when I needed him...”

The look on Sollux's face as she spoke was confusing. As Vriska watched, as she spoke, his expression went from one of annoyance, to shock, to denial. Not for the first time she wished she was able to read emotions from this kind of distance. To see if what she was seeing was really what was going on under the surface. Sollux, he was harder to read for her. Not hard like Equius was, but difficult nonetheless. Something to do with psionics she guessed. The few times she'd been near enough to try and read him, it'd only worked about half the time. It was almost as great a mystery as how Equius resisted her power. But either way it didn't explain to her just what was going on with Sollux.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he started grumbling. “That was when... Fuck.”

“Sollux?” 

“Shit. Vriska, I have something I've really got to do right now, okay? Why don't you just... I don't know, do something. I've got something I have to... Fuck. Talk tomorrow?”

“Sollux?”

There wasn't even a chance for her to get more information out of him, not before the connection between their husktops was broken. Vriska was left looking at the disconnect message, wondering just what had happened. What had set Sollux off like that? Not that he was ever going to tell her, but the curiosity would be dreadful. 

Now, though, Vriska was left alone with her thoughts. Her memories. Her dreams. 

No. Fuck that. She was completely and totally fucking done with all of that shit. All she needed to do was get some sleep and everything would be easier. Beforus would be an easier place to live in the morning. But only if she got some rest. With a sigh Vriska shut down her husktop and made for where she'd left the things in the entertainment block. Sure enough both were still there. The crushed velvet box and the faintly glowing bottle of pills. Both would have to be hidden. But where could she put them that Kanaya wouldn't stumble upon by chance? 

The case was an easy thing. She'd hide it in the usual place, a secret drawer in her desk where she normally kept gifts for Kanaya. Problem was that drawer was hard to access, so keeping the sopor there would be a bad idea. It had to be readily accessible. Had to be something she could get to in the middle of the night, but not have Kanaya find. 

In the end the bottle of pills was slid carefully behind the frame of the slab, and with two swallowed and water to chase, Vriska went to risk the terrors of the day.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got nothing.

It was a perfect plan. Or so Vriska kept telling herself. The culmination of a week of planning. Of good ideas torn to shreds and replaced with new ones. Of those plans being ripped to pieces for new plans. Days of trying to stay sane as she worked with Sollux to plan something that could very well drive her mad, and would undoubtedly destroy her life. Nights of blessed sleep, and wondering how she was going to get the obviously needed sopor after she joined Veruna in hiding. If she survived. In the end they had finished it. A balance of as few deaths as they thought they could get away with, as much destruction as could be afforded to make it flashy, and just the right amount of blood to satisfy Veruna without destroying what little remained of Vriska's conscious. 

And this morning... This morning judgment came down upon her, damning her no matter what happened. Either Veruna would see through all the work, kill Vriska on the spot—or torture her, who knew with that one—and go after her friends, quads and inclade, or she would accept the plan and all those deaths would be on Vriska's hands and she'd lose everyone anyway. Kanaya would hate her forever, never knowing the price Vriska paid for her life and comfort. Karkat would be disappointed in her—the thought of which hurt more than she'd ever expected. Terezi and Equius would feel vindicated and call for her head. Tavros...

Who knew what he'd think. Vriska didn't. She'd refused Sollux's continued pleas that she turn to the brownblood, refused to bring him into this any more than he already was. How could she just expect him to sit back and say nothing of what was going on? Sollux, Vriska could trust him. He was in this as deep as she was, he knew what it was to fight despite the costs it placed on innocent trolls. It was a battle for their futures, for the future of Beforus, and in that kind of game you sacrificed whatever pawns you had to for the sake of the war. You took the time to mourn when no one was around, where no one could see, and moved on. The battle continued regardless of emotions, and so the players had to keep moving as well. 

So here she was now, a just out of sight of where the Keeper waited. This would be her last chance to close her eyes and be at peace with herself for a while, and Vriska knew it. Once the plan was in Veruna's hands things would start in motion. It didn't matter that the target that Sollux had helped her select wasn't happening for almost a full perigee. Veruna would spend a good bit of that preparing her forces, and she'd likely expect Vriska to be there with her. Work would be abandoned—not that Vriska cared, the paperwork transferring her production facilities to Remium's ownership were processed and would be official come the night—Kanaya left to wonder where her matesprit was because the note Vriska had left her had been vague. Everything she'd need for what came next was with her. All of the plans carefully written out on paper for ease of destruction, detailed down to the last millisecond. Other papers that had the plans for the explosive device that Sollux had contrived. Everything the psychotic, would-be Empress needed to start her war, perfectly arranged on so little paper. Also with her was her sopor pills and her husktop, the former hidden in several small containers about her body, the latter heavily encrypted to protect Sollux and the Web until such point as Vriska felt it was safe. All she could do was hope that it would hold if someone else got their claws on the husktop, that Sollux's skills were as good as she thought they were. If they weren't, there was no guarantee that their plans would stay safe until Vriska's allotted time to log in using the cipher Sollux had given her. 

Now, though, her moment of peace was past. If she took too long getting in to see Veruna, who knew how the troll would respond. It was now, or it was never, and never was too dangerous to even begin to contemplate. With a deep breath, and a quick check to make sure that everything was still in place in the pockets and packs under her, Vriska ducked out from the limited shade of a rock face and headed at last to cover the last bit of the distance to the normal meeting place. Sure enough Keeper was there, waiting like he always was, the same disgusting vibes rolling off of him as there ever were. Oddly enough, Vriska was almost relieved to find that this, at least, wasn't likely to change when everything else did. Keeper would still be creepy, still make her want to throttle him no matter the price her empathy would take out of her. It would be right up there with her carefully contained, murderous hatred of Veruna. 

“Spider Bitch,” Keeper spat as Vriska joined him under the stone overhang and pulled back her hood. “Her Ladyship is looking for you.”

“Like I couldn't even begin to figure that out on my own,” she countered, standing by and letting Keeper go through his usual routine to verify who she was. Now, though, Vriska didn't even wait long enough to bandage her hand once Keeper was through. Instead she just pushed on past him and slipped through the crack and into the meeting cave. What she saw there, though, froze Vriska in her place. 

The cave was... empty. The stone benches, tables, everything was missing. There were no other trolls there either. Well, no, that wasn't exactly true. At the head of the room, where Veruna always chose to speak, a single large table (this oddly of wood) stood, a stone bench waiting on either side of it. Veruna herself leaned against one side of the table, a satisfied smile on her face. Except for the presence for the fuchsia and the limited furnishings, nothing was left of the meeting cave as Vriska had known it. If Vriska had doubted that this was the turning point for the hierarchists before this, it would have been possible to keep deluding herself now. 

“What, no celebration for the soon to be conquering hero?” Vriska asked as she strode forward far more confidently than she actually felt. It was pretty easy to do too. All she had to do was reach out and borrow some of Veruna's own confidence, acting as if it was her own. 

“Whale, the celebrations only reelly come when you actually conquer, gill. Keep that in mind.”

Veruna smiled, pushed herself fully to her feet, and gestured towards Vriska. Sometimes it was hard, when she looked at Veruna, to remember just what the female was. There was no denying there was a special kind of beauty to the terrible creature. Her body was delicately shaped, just like it seemed all of the fuchsias were, made up all of curves. What was even the point of it? Vriska had always found herself more partial to the sharper features of cool bloods than the curves of the high or the more blocky builds of warm bloods. Still, there was something almost mesmerizing about the way Veruna swayed as she moved, her movements only serving to call more attention to the curving lines of her body. Even her hair had the kind of waves that evoked the nautical life of half of the cold blooded shades. But one only had to look at Veruna's blood painted horns and dress to know just what she was. A killer queen. Charming and so obscene. The world she would usher in was not one Vriska wanted to live in. Nor was she any better this morning than she usually was. Today her claws too were painted with a range of indigos, purples, and even a hint or two of cerulean. Apparently she'd been displeased with some group of hierarchists—or maybe lowblood sympathizers—in the last week.

“What? No faith in my talents, Veruna? I'm offended. I've proved once that my pan is better than the fists of any number of your best highbloods. Won't you take it on faith?”

“Faith, dear Vriska, is what feeds this disgusting system. Lesser creatures have unwavering faith bereef in the system to protect them. They think that their precious system will protect them against the force of our fury. But the tide is changing, and those that live on faith will sink. Will you swim?”

Something was making her tense. Vriska could see it in the way one of Veruna's painted claws was tapping on her crossed arms. Could sense it in the way the troll's anxiety tasted in her gift. Could hear it in the overabundance of fish puns. Whatever had happened between now and the last time she'd seen the other troll had been serious. It was that realization that drove Vriska to look at her enemy more closely, turning the full force of her vision eightfold upon the bitch. 

There were new splashes of color on Veruna's dress. Most prominent among them was a shade of indigo that almost bordered on the 'upper' limits of cerulean. Vriska remembered the color, it had belonged to an annoying, self satisfied indigo system enforcer who had recently come to count herself as one of the hierarchists. From the very beginning the young enforcer had felt wrong to Vriska, but she'd said nothing. The risk of having her gift found out and abused was far worse than the risk of the troll getting caught and killed in front of Vriska for spying. And she had been caught. Caught and brought before Veruna. It almost made Vriska wish she'd pulled the indigo aside, pulled her into the Web, protected her. Problem was if she failed, the indigo would have either turned her over to Veruna, or fucked up anyway and gotten Vriska caught in her death. Either way, the encounter had left Veruna frayed around the edges. Would make her harder to deal with, harder to fool. If everything went wrong because of the indigo...

“I don't like swimming,” Vriska admitted. “I'm more partial to boats. Let someone else handle putting in the energy to move me. I'll stay high and dry.”

“As much as I would love to, I fin I can't fault your apperch to the problem. Come. Share your designs with me. Shoal me you deserve to keep breathing, landdweller.”

“Of course. Shall I get to that now, or are we waiting for any one else to join us?”

“We're the sole participants tonight. Wave a lobsta do, so don't waste any moor of my time. Shell me everything. Come, sit, glub about the glory of your pan until you are blue in the gills. But min-now that what you give me better be crayative or so kelp you cod, I will krill you where you stand.”

“You won't have reason to,” Vriska promised, pulling portions of the plan out from a variety of the pockets and packs inside her solar protection garment. Under Veruna's watchful, baleful, eyes she set about laying out piece after piece. Maps of the target location. Details on the event they were hitting. Projected damages, casualties, timing on everything. Designs for the explosives, suggested ways to get them in place. Everything and anything that Veruna could use to wreck destruction, bring the stability of Beforus crashing down around their heads. And Vriska was giving it her at no cost. 

What had she and Sollux been thinking?

The next several hours were spent bent over the papers with Veruna, discussing the strong points of the plan, where it could be strengthened, and who they would consider placing into which positions to the tasks Vriska had outlined. The carefully written pages were soon marked up with new notes, usually in Vriska's neat, tight handwriting, but sometimes in the large, flowing script of the fuchsia. The most disturbing thing about watching Veruna write wasn't the fact that the fish-puns were even worse in text, or the way that Veruna stabbed at the paper, but that she wrote with her own blood. As if she was proud of what she was planning, as if she was daring anyone to try and stop her. 

It was something Vriska was set on doing. 

At last they'd gone over everything, Veruna's smile spreading wider and wider as Vriska explained more and more details, and the would-be Empress nodded to Vriska. 

“Yes, I do bereef everything appiers to be in order. It's honestly rather fintastic that you put this together in a week.”

“I told you that I serve you,” Vriska pointed out, stretching her arms a bit to work the stiffness out of them. “I'm glad you like the plan. We've only got about a perigee, so things need to be set into motion...”

Vriska trailed off as Veruna burst into giggling laughter. It was a terrible sort of laughter, the kind that would have made any normal troll's legs rattle. But it was worse for Vriska—what wasn't these nights—because her empathy thrust Veruna's complex, typhoon-like swirling rush of emotions over her like never before. Bloodthirst was there, fury, hatred, rage over being denied something. Below that amusement, satisfaction, fondness. And even further below that disappointment, regret, even a hint of sorrow. Just what was going through her pan right now?

“This is some reelly searious work you've put into the planning. But I bereef we can do betta. Wave got quite an opperchtunaty here. I've got an eeling that if you apply your pan a bit more, there won't be a shingle troll able to do anything but carp about our victory for sweeps. What do you say, child?”

Say? To what? What was this damn troll even glubbing about—and that very question made Vriska shudder, she'd clearly spent too much time alone with Veruna this morning. 

“The look on your face, Vriska, is quite gillarious. Let me glub it to your plain then. I want something bigger, something better. I want to strike at the wriggling day celebration of the Empress, three days from now. Show my sister that I can reach her where she thinks herself most secure. Vriska, I want you to krill my sister for me.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to come up with these things when I'm writing the story in advance. Who would have thought it?

All Vriska could do at first was sit there, staring up in shock at the fuchsia blooded troll. Veruna, at least, seemed to enjoy the shocked silence, because she stood there, toying with her hair and radiating pleasure with herself. What she was so pleased with Vriska couldn't quite tell. For Veruna there was nothing more desirable than getting the Empress and her Heiress out of the way. For the hierarchists, there might be nothing more dangerous to their cause, with the repercussions that would come of it. For Vriska... it would be fatal. Surely Veruna wasn't being serious. And yet, everything in Vriska's gift screamed that she was. Deadly so.

“There's not enough time,” Vriska protested, hoping that something, anything would stop this idea. 

“It is. What you have here is the bassis of the plan you'll use. The fin details need changed, but we can work with this. There's enough time. But we must start now.”

Now? Veruna wanted her to just drop everything and spend the night planning the assassination of one of the two most carefully protected trolls in the world? That... That wasn't how this was supposed to work. She was supposed to have time. Time to deal with Sollux and informing the Empress. Time to spend her last nights with Kanaya, find some way to make her understand that she loved her and hadn't meant all of this. Time to... 

What did it matter. It wasn't like she was going to get the time she wanted. But maybe, just maybe, she could get the time she needed. That was all she could hope for now. Hope she could find a way to let Sollux know, so he could warn the Web and set their plans into motion. Have the time to at least leave Kanaya the necklace, for all that she'd probably throw it away.

“Forgive me for saying this, my Lady, but I...”

“What is it? Spit it out, Serket. I don't have time for your delaying.”

“I have a matesprit.”

That managed to give Veruna pause. Not that she didn't know, of course. Veruna knew all about Vriska's quadrants, it was no shock at all. Yet something about Vriska's bringing it up now, maybe something in her voice, was making Veruna interested. 

“And what aboat that, gill? You want to warn your matesprit? Not acceptable. Pity or not, she may not be trustworthy.”

“I'm not stupid enough to tell her,” Vriska snapped. “What do you think I am? She's a damn good girl, but she wouldn't understand. I'm doing this as much for her as I am for anything else. But, after this... I won't be able to go back to her until we've won. Please, my Lady, I want to see her one more time before we start this. I'll be back in enough time to arrange all of this for you.”

There was silence for a while, a thoughtful air around Veruna, but what she was deciding, Vriska couldn't even begin to know. Not that she couldn't read Veruna more easily than most. No, it was that Veruna was, somehow, thinking about Vriska's proposal completely logically. There was no emotions around her to reveal even the slightest bit of what arguments Veruna was making in her pan. Meanwhile Vriska was rushing through argument after argument that she could use to win the boon from Veruna. It was the only chance she had, Sollux had, hell, the only chance the Empress had, to get through what was coming. 

“How long does it take you to reach your hive from here?”

“Three hours, if I'm rushing.”

“You have thirty hours. If you are not back by then, I will find you, and your jadeblood, and paint my skin with your blood.”

“I know, my Lady. Trust me. I know.”

 

* * * * * *

Turned out if she really rushed, Vriska could make it back to the hive in two and a half hours, not three. Still, that only gave her somewhere around twenty-four hours to accomplish everything that had to be done. How was she supposed to do everything in that amount of time? How was she supposed to do anything in that amount of time? And yet, do it she must. The other choice was to fail, doom them all. Why couldn't anything ever be easy?

The hive was abandoned when Vriska arrived, not that she had expected much else. Kanaya had already left for her day at work, and in the end it was probably better not to even try to speak to her. If she said goodbye, Kanaya would try to stop her. If she tried to explain, thing would go wrong. It was better that she didn't see her matesprit before the end, no matter what she'd told Veruna. She would leave her Fussyfangs a letter. A letter and the necklace. They were all she would have to give. 

Once she was back in the safety of her hive, the husktop came out. There was too much to do, too many irons, and one of them demanded that she get into contact with Sollux now. Unfortunately the encryption subroutines he's put in place were strong, and would take a while for her husktop to process. The only thing she could do was start now. With her husktop on, Vriska logged in and started to activate certain programs and files in a specific order that she could only barely remember. If this worked the way it was supposed to, the husktop would start to run items that Vriska could only guess at to get her back in contact with Sollux and the Web. They were necessary now. 

But there was only so much she could do while the programs were busy with their thing. She'd have faith in Sollux's skills, they were the only thing she could fall back on right now. And one of them was something that was just better to get out of the way sooner rather than later. 

It was slow going getting the secret drawer free, but then again, she'd never really meant for it to be easy. Quickly accessed hiding spots meant that they were too easily discovered by another person. The ones that were harder to get into, harder to find, meant you might have to leave something behind, but the items were far more secure. Soon enough, though, Vriska had the drawer open, slipping out the crushed velvet box. For a few minutes it was all she could do to stroke the box, committing the feel of the box to her pan. She'd never see it again. Never see Kanaya, never see how beautiful her matesprit would look in the construction. 

Finding the paper in the hive was a lot harder than Vriska had expected it to be. After exhausting any possible hiding places in the food preparation block, the entertainment block, the respite block and the office, Vriska was forced to go searching more the only place she normally didn't go: Kanaya's fabrication block.

This was as much Kanaya's personal safe haven as the the office block tended to be Vriska's. It was here, amid the swaths of lovely fabrics and waves of beautiful colors that Kanaya created. Suits and gowns. Casual and dress. Simple sashes that brought an imperfect item together, and extravagant vests that transformed the wearer from some ridiculous looking clown to an almost respectable troll. From this room Kanaya made herself look like a mythical goddess, made Gamzee look competent and focused, and Vriska seem like a trustworthy troll for all of her acting like a hierarchists. This was the part of Kanaya's world that Vriska had never been able to become part of. Her stitches were uneven. Her ability to put colors together that weren't black and blue were atrocious. She didn't even know when it was appropriate to use a vest with an overcoat or not without Kanaya guiding her. 

The room was the same as it was the last time Vriska had been in here for a fitting, though vastly different. The walls were still decorated with spare bits of cloth, or ones Kanaya had loved the look of but had never found a use for. Someday, Kanaya promised, she would make great things of the cloth, but Vriska would never know. After today she would never stand in this room again. With a sigh Vriska started her search, hoping to find some paper. 

When she found it, Vriska found herself frozen in silence. One of Kanaya's sketchbooks had been her intended victim for paper pinching. Opening it, though, had been something Vriska hadn't been prepared for. It was all she could do to find the nearest pile of pillows to flop down on. For all that she'd expected it to be filled with dresses, there wasn't a single sketch of fashion as Vriska flipped through the pages. They were, instead of her. Of her sleeping, of her talking animatedly, of her staring off into the distance at something, or bent over her desk in the office block working on some paperwork. Every image as beautifully, pitingly sketched as the last. If she had ever doubted that her matesprit pitied her, the sketches would have destroyed all doubt in her mind. And now, now Vriska was going to have to break her heart to save her. 

It wasn't fair, but life never was. 

Vriska tore her eyes from the current sketch and quickly flipped to a random blank page. There was no way she could afford to spend too much time looking through the sketches. As much as she wanted to memorize her every last drawing, try to figure out just what it was about her that Kanaya pitied so red, if she didn't leave her message now, who said she'd ever be able to? So, with a blank page and one of Kanaya's colored writing tools, Vriska set about leaving behind the only message she could offer her matesprit as comfort. 

Two hours and three discarded and torched drafts later, Vriska propped the open sketchbook up on the entertainment block low table, leaned the crushed velvet box against it, and left it behind for Kanaya to find upon returning to the hive. Maybe, one day, she'd see her matesprit again, the necklace gracing her neck. For a minute, Vriska had to wonder if convicts to be put out of the misery of the public for the greater good were given a chance to say goodbye to their quadrants. She also wondered if Fussyfangs would even want to see her, after everything that would come next.

But no, that wasn't a line of thinking that would get her anywhere. Leaving behind the gift and letter, Vriska returned to the office block, hoping that after this time Sollux's protections had unraveled themselves. Sure enough, even as she sat down at her desk the final program shut itself down and a new window popped up, one directing her to attach all necessary items for visual verification. Leave it to Sollux to demand a level of confirmation of who she was and that she was whole. Made twice as much sense when she thought about how this would look to him, to have her getting in touch with him so far outside of their time frame. 

The video equipment was barely plugged in and picking up images before a visual chat connection accepted itself on her husktop, and she was faced with an image of Sollux. Anxiety seemed to radiate around him, in every nervous sparking of his power around his eyes. Even as he came up on the screen Vriska could see him chewing on his lip, and the faintest hint of yellow on the tips of his teeth. The idiot had made himself bleed, and for what? No, he hadn't made himself bleed, she had. Unfortunately there really hadn't been a way for her to contact him other than this one so that he wouldn't worry. And the chances were that he'd been alerted the second her husktop had connected to the web. That he'd been anxious to see the right combination to unlock everything happening right from the start. Maybe he'd been wondering if it had been luck. Maybe he'd been afraid that Veruna had managed to torture everything out of her. Either way, for all the anxiety and nerves, Sollux's expression softened as he looked at her, then started to glare when she raised her fingers in a small wave. 

“What the ever living fuck is going on here?” Sollux demanded, relief obvious in his voice.

“Now now, Sollux. If you talk like that all the time people are going to think your kismesis is rubbing off on you. That would just be quite unseemly,” she teased, hoping to soothe him further. Not in any kind of pale way, of course, but soothe none the less. 

“Fuck propriety. What's going on. I thought you were supposed to be...”

“I was,” Vriska cut in, not needing to hear the ranting now. “I met with her. Discussed the plan. Outlined everything. It went just like we wanted it to, Sollux. Except for one thing.”

“What?”

“She doesn't like the target.”

“What the fuck is supposed to be wrong with the target? It had everything she wanted. High concentration of low bloods and support structures of the current system. Potential for broadcast due to presence of news trolls of various media formats. Close enough to the Empress to send a decisive message, but not close enough to risk either of you. Not to mention that it suited our purposes too. Proximity to several medical institutions, while enough of a distance from enforcer headquarters to make escape easy. Enough to look flashy without causing too much pain, despite the damages. What the fuck was wrong with it?”

“It wasn't close enough to the Empress.”

“You're fucking kidding me. The location was within sight of the Imperial Residence.”

“Sollux... Listen to me. She doesn't want the Empress to learn about the attack. She wants the Empress to die in it.”

Silence. Several moments of it, and completely awkward. Then, at last, Sollux shook his head, spending a few moments messing around with something on his computer.

“Okay. There. I think I've fixed whatever problem there was with my system. Could you run that by me again? I'll hear it right this time. Because there is no way you just said what I think you said.”

“Sollux, she doesn't want the Empress surviving the attack. I'm to rework the plan to occur doing the public celebration of the wriggling day of Empress Gyliea, and I'm not to let her survive it.”

“Fuck.”

Her sentiments exactly.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a feeling people are going to forgive me many things for this chapter. See end of the chapter for some explanation about some stylistic things I did.

“But that's... She's... It's...”

“Yeah,” Vriska agreed. The only reason she'd handled it as well as she had was because her life had been riding on fooling Veruna. Sollux, though, didn't have quite the practice at hiding his feelings like she had. Odd, before now Vriska hadn't really envied Sollux that. Now, though...

“You can't do this,” Sollux snapped. “Vriska, promise me you aren't doing this.”

“I have to Sollux. She's threatened Kanaya.”

“There are bigger things at play here than your quadrants, Vriska. If you do this, her life might as well be forfeit anyway. Being the clueless matesprit of a terrorist is one thing. Being the clueless matesprit of the person who murdered the Empress is completely different. If you fail, she'll get life in prison. If you succeed, you'll be lucky if the Heiress gives her a swift, clean death.”

“No,” Vriska growled. “They wouldn't do that.”

“How can you say that?”

“It's never...”

“That doesn't mean it won't change when you do this,” he pointed out.

“And do you think anything the Empress or Heiress would do could possibly be worse than what Veruna will do if I fail?” Vriska asked. “Honestly, Sollux, tell me that. Give me another choice.”

“Go back to Veruna and kill her. Do it now.”

“Can't do that,” Vriska said, rolling her eyes. “She's stronger than I am. She's faster than I am. She's got nothing to hold her back...” Nothing like empathy to make the very act of killing so damaging to her pan, to her continued existence. 

“Madness is worth the risk,” Sollux countered. “Surely you can see that.”

Well, if nothing else, at least the conversation had confirmed her suspicion that Sollux had managed to figure out her secret. Oh well, it was about time she knew for sure, and about time that he tried to use it against her. Not that she was going to fall for it. 

“Even if I did survive the fight, even if I did keep my pan intact through the whole thing—which was hard enough with the maroon, just so you know—there would still be the rest of the hierarchists to deal with. At least two of them know where I live, know where I work. There is no guarantee that Veruna hasn't got contingencies to deal with me murdering her. Do you know what happens then, Sollux? It's not just Kanaya. It's my ashen quadrant as well. Terezi, Karkat. And with Karkat, you. You and Cyclos. And if they get to you, if they get into your system, because trust me Sollux, they've got the numbers to overwhelm you if nothing else, then every last member of the Web. Oh, and let's not forget everything beyond that. Kanaya's quads as well, for nothing more than the crime of being inclade to me. Gamzee... oh man, that one will be rich, won't it? They've already got a reason to hate him, and it will be a bloody take down. Karkat's quads too, which means Aradia. You've met her once or twice, right? Nice girl. What did she do to deserve this? It doesn't end there, Sollux. It couldn't. Remium for being raised with me, and working for me. Every last person I've made contracts with, which includes a lot of the people we're supposed to be protecting. So don't you even begin to tell me that going straight for Veruna is an option.” 

Sollux didn't say anything. Which really wasn't too surprising. It was the first time Vriska had raised her voice like this with him. The first time she'd been so fucking angry at him. Angry at what was going on. Before this she'd held her peace, kept calm—except when she was panicking—even when they'd met and she'd had her dagger to his throat she'd been calm, collected, and sure. But back then—was it really so long ago—she had been in control of her life. 

“Vriska...”

“Sollux, I need your help for this to turn out as something other than a disaster. Please...” she said, almost whispering the words. “Please, Sollux, I need you do help.”

Again he wasn't talking, just looking at her. Thinking. But, at the very least, the flickering lights of his psionics had died down. Sollux was calming himself, which was the only clue she had on whether or not he was going to give in. Then, at last, Sollux sighed, and even as he shook his head Vriska knew he was going to help. She'd known him long enough, talked to him enough through this chat client to know his tells. 

“How long do we have?” 

“She gave me 30 hours, about five or so hours ago. And I'll need another two and a half to get back.”

“So we've got about twenty two or some such. She really hasn't given you much time at all, has she?”

“It's not like there is much before the event,” Vriska pointed out. “I've got to change the plan, run it by her, finalize it, deal with recruitment... We'll be cutting things close as it is if I want to make sure that nothing goes wrong and as few people as possible get hurt. The fact that she even gave me this much time...”

“You used Kanaya, didn't you?” he asked, frowning. “Shit, it probably wasn't the best idea to bring your matesprit up around her.”

“She already knew about Kanaya. Nothing's changed,” Vriska pointed out. “Besides, I needed the time to get through to you. So can we just get to business? We've got just over twenty hours to change everything, create new orders for the members of the Web, devise a new strategy for...”

“No,” Sollux said, sharp enough that it actually got Vriska to trail off.

“What do you mean, no? You said you would help, Sollux. Why aren't you helping?” 

“Because there's something you've got to do before we get down to this business.”

“There is nothing more important than out planning, Sollux. We're not going to have enough time as it is, so I won't have us wasting any of it. There are irons, Sollux. They are in the fire, Sollux. Ripe for dealing with. We're going to get through all of them. All of the irons. So stop...”

“Vriska, just shut up. Geez, you're never going to learn how to do that, are you? Nevermind. What's important now is that you get really ready for doing this.”

“I'm ready,” she snapped, slamming her fist on her desk for emphasis. 

“No. You're not. It's time you stopped running. Stopped hiding. Talk to your moirail. We're not doing anything until you do.”

“I don't have a moirail,” Vriska protested. “Thanks for rubbing it in, douchebag.”

“Dammit Vriska, I'm tired of playing, here. Talk to Tavros. In the mean time, I'll get up an emergency summons for the Web.”

“Sollux...”

The protest was for naught, though, because before she could even get all of his name out, the video program went dark. For a moment her screen flashed, going pure black as if the husktop had burned itself out. Then it flashed back on, the Trollian window open, and one handle highlighted, demanding her attention. 

Chances were she couldn't just go off, do something else in the hive and pretend she'd talked to Tavros. Sollux's monitors on her husktop and the brownbloods could confirm or refute anything she claimed. Fuck that damn mustardblooded idiot for getting his horns into business where it didn't belong. Dragging Tavros into everything at this point was cruel, it was wrong, it was just plain evil. They could never really be moirails. She couldn't see him, couldn't visit with him, couldn't be shooshed or papped when she needed it. Not that she really had any chance at a moirail after what Veruna was going to make her do. Once she went into hiding she would only actually see the hierarchists, which wasn't enough. She couldn't trust a single one of them with her secrets. Didn't have faith that they wouldn't instantly betray her. That any of them dared to feel the same way she did about everything. That any of them would be more than Veruna's mindless followers. 

And yet... 

And yet Sollux was right. She needed a moirail, needed someone to help her through all of this in a way that Tavros could not. There was only one answer to it. One person who likely wouldn't judge her, who understood the burden of her gift, who welcomed her despite that. The only answer was the same one that had been staring her in the face this whole time. The one person she'd been avoiding, and had let down by doing so. 

Fuck.

Fuck Sollux for being right. Fuck him forever. Damn self-satisfied smug bastard thought he knew everything there was to know about relationships just because of his guardian. Except he only thought that when he was manic. What a douche. ARGH!

Nervous, hesitant, driven, Vriska double-clicked the highlighted name on Trollian, held her breath, and began to type.

\-- arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling adiosToreador [AT] \-- 

AG: Okay, so this is totally going to 8e coming out of nowhere, 8ut we need to talk.

AT: oH, uH, vR1SKA, aBOUT T1ME YOU F1NALLY CONTACTED ME,

AG: There are some serious........ Wait, what? You were expecting this?

AT: wELL, sOLLUX TOLD ME YOU'D BE CONTACT1NG ME 1N A FEW MINUTES, oNCE YOU, uH, gOT OVER YOURSELF, h1S WORDS, nOT M1NE,

AG: How in 8eforus do you know a8out Sollux?!

AG: You aren't supposed to know a8out Sollux. You aren't supposed to know a8out anything!

AT: yOU d1d TELL H1M TO WATCH OUT FOR ME,

AT: aPPARENTLY AFTER HE FOUND SOME LETTERS OR SOMETH1NG THAT YOU'D ADDRESSED TO ME, hE DEC1DED TO ACTUALLY CONTACT ME,

AT: oHHH, uH, bY THE WAY, tHE LETTERS WERE REALLY NICE, 1 WROTE YOU SOME TOO, sOLLUX HAS THEM AND SAYS HE'LL MAKE SURE YOU GET THEM ALL, uM, sECURE LIKE,

AT: vR1SKA, aRE YOU ST1LL THERE, tROLL1AN SEEMS TO THINK SO BUT 1'M NOT SO SURE BECAUSE OF THE LACK OF RESPONSES HERE,

AG: I'm still here. Just trying to wrap my pan around what in the name of all that is sane made Sollux decide to talk to you.

AT: hE SA1D THAT YOU NEEDED A MO1RA1L, sO HE CAME UP W1TH TH1S PLAN TO G1VE YOU ONE EVEN 1F YOU D1DN'T REAL1ZE 1T,

AT: 1T WAS K1ND OF WE1RD TO HAVE H1M APPEAR OUT OF NO WHERE ON MY HUSKTOP, bUT WHEN HE EXPLA1NED WHY YOU HAD SENT H1M, 1 WAS THANKFUL,

AT: hE'S ACTUALLY K1ND OF FUN TO TALK TO, wELL, 1N SPITE OF THE YELLING AND THAT, 1S HE ALWAYS SO, uM, aT ODDS W1TH H1MSELF,

AG: Yeah, it's kind of frustrating. Apparently the medication that could make him 8eara8le also messes with the Psionics.

AG: O8VIOUSLY he's had some previous pro8lems with the hierarchists. They kind of threatened his guardian. Plus his kismesis is kind of outside of the hierarchist scale so they are a threat to them.

AG: So Sollux has TOTALLY stopped taking his pills to protect them. And fuck with his kismesis I think.

AT: yEAH, hE MENT1ONED ENJOY1NG PRANK1NG KARKAT W1TH H1S POWERS, 1 DON'T GET 1T, bUT TO EACH H1S OWN, r1GHT,

AT: aNYWAY, wE'VE BEEN TALK1NG S1NCE A FEW DAYS AFTER YOU CAME TO SEE ME,

AT: hE TOLD ME YOU WANTED TO PROTECT ME,

AT: tH1NG 1S, 1F YOU'RE PROTECT1NG ME, hOW CAN 1 PROTECT YOU,

AT: tHAT'S WHAT MO1RA1LS ARE FOR,

AG: So he's just 8een keeping you a8reast of all of our various plannings just in case I decided to reach out to you despite my 8etter judgment?

AG: Not sure that is protecting you, if you ask me. He is so TOTALLY fired!!!!!!!!

AT: yOU DON'T REALLY TH1NK THAT'S ALL HE'S BEEN DO1NG, wE BOTH KNOW 1T,

AT: aND 1F YOU F1RE H1M WHO W1LL MANAGE THE wEB,

AG: You know a8out the We8? F8ck. This really is too much.

AT: 1 KNOW PRETTY MUCH EVERYTH1NG, vR1SKA,

AG: I'm sure that isn't quite true, Tavros.

AT: 1 KNOW ABOUT THE ATTACK PLANN1NG, 1 KNOW ABOUT THE SLEEP 1SSUES, 1 KNOW ABOUT THE MAROON,

AG: Fuck. F8CK F8CK F8CK F8CK F8CK F8CK F8CK F8CK F8CK!!!!!!!!

AG: Tavros... I... It... F8CK!

AT: tH1S 1S SERIOUS, vR1SKA, yOU KNOW THAT, sURE, wHAT YOU'VE BEEN DO1NG UNT1L NOW HAS BEEN WORTH 1T, yOUVE HELPED PEOPLE, yOU KNOW THAT JUST AS MUCH AS 1 DO, cYCLOS WOULD BE DEAD W1THOUT YOUR 1DEAS, wHO KNOWS WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED W1TH THE CASE W1TH YOUR GUARD1AN, bUT THERE 1S A PO1NT WHERE YOU HAVE TO STEP BACK AND ADM1T THAT YOU CAN'T HANDLE 1T, tHAT THE PR1CE 1SN'T WORTH 1T, 1S 1T,

AT: tH1NK OF JUST WHAT TH1S 1S GOING TO DO, yOUR WHOLE L1FE, lEFT BEHIND YOU, eVEN 1F WE CAN THEN USE THE EMPRESS AND HE1RESS TO DEAL W1TH VERUNA, 1N THE END YOU HAVE TO PAY FOR WHAT YOU D1D, yOU'LL BE CHASED UNT1L THE END OF YOUR DAYS, tHEY WON'T LET YOU GO JUST BECAUSE YOU G1VE THEM VERUNA, aND 1F THEY TAKE VERUNA AL1VE, tHEY'LL HAVE YOU FOR CALGOR AND THE MAROON TOO, wHAT THEN, 

AT: 1 HAD TO TRY AND MAKE YOU SEE THE FULL PRICE, mAYBE YOU ALREADY D1D, bUT 1 HAD TO BE SURE, wHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT HERE 1S G1V1NG UP EVERYTH1NG, 1 NEED YOU TO REALIZE THAT COST,

AG: T... Tavros?

AG: Tavros how do you know how that conversation went?

AT: wELL, 1T WASN'T A CONVERSAT1ON BETWEEN YOU AND SOLLUX, 1T WAS A CONVERSAT1ON BETWEEN YOU AND ME W1TH SOLLUX AS, uMM, a MOUTHP1ECE,

AT: 1'VE BEEN HERE THE WHOLE T1ME, vR1SKA, aND 1'M NOT GO1NG TO LOSE YOU NOW, mO1RA1LS ARE FOR L1FE,

AG: Nothing I can say is going to get you to a8andon me now, right?

AT: nOTH1NG,

AG: Veruna wants me to kill the Empress.

AT: 1 KNOW, sOLLUX TOLD ME THAT MUCH, yOU'RE GO1NG TO HAVE TO RUN, r1GHT,

AG: 8eyond the ends of 8eforus.

AT: 1'LL BE HERE WHEN YOU'RE T1RED, wHEN YOU NEED A PLACE TO REST,

AG: Tavros........

AT: yEAH,

AG: That was almost poetic.

AT: tHANKS, 1'VE BEEN WORK1NG ON 1T,

AT: wHAT DO WE DO NOW,

AG: Well, there is a rather serious number of irons I've got to get Sollux to help me with.

AT: tHAT YOU'VE GOT TO GET sOLLUX AND ME TO HELP YOU W1TH,

AT: bUT 1 MUST ASK, vR1SKA, jUST HOW MANY 1RONS ARE WE DEAL1NG W1TH HERE,

AG: ALL of them, Tavros. ALLLLLLLL of them.

AT: aND WHERE ARE THESE ELUS1VE RODS OF METAL,

AG: In the fire. Every last one.

AT: tHEN LET'S GO DEAL WITH THESE S1CK FIRES AND THE1R 1RONS, sHALL WE,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When reviewing Tavros's quirk for this chapter, I found a rather interesting note on the Typing Quirks page on the Homestuck wiki. Apparently it has been said that if Tavros were more self-confident, he would substitute 1 for I, as he is between Aradia (who uses a 0) and Sollux (who uses a 2). When I saw this I absolutely had to do it. My Beforus Tavros is far more confident and filled with self-esteem and respect than Alternian Tavros. I feel like in a different world he really would end up this way. And so BAM! Tavros confident enough to use a slightly different quirk. He's not the only troll who will be getting a quirk change. Terezi will also get a change when she finally gets into a trollian log. The 413 quirk uses the numbers of the blind prophets. I'm not sure that would apply as readily to the Beforus situation. I'll have to consider this very seriously.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that not a great turn of events? I'm really starting to grow into a fan of the complexities of the pale quadrant. Sure, the flushed and caliginous quadrants are nice, but man, I'm loving the pale.

The troll that passed through the crack in the stone and back into the presence of the would-be Empress wasn't the same one who had left. No, Vriska was a whole new troll. Had been since she talked to Tavros. Had been when she'd disconnected from the three way memo with Tavros and Sollux hours ago, pleading fatigue and promising to return for a final hour of debriefing before she left her hive. Had been when she'd gathered up the last things she wanted to take away from her old life—as sweet as it had been with Kanaya—and headed out into the scalding heat of the day. She was like a troll who hadn't had weeks of pure mental torture, every decision weighing on her as if she was the only one in the world who even motherfucking cared. 

No, the troll who walked into slipped into the stone meeting room was cool, collected, confident and fulling in control of herself. A troll ready to give up the comforts of her life for the greater good. 

Vriska was ready.

“Well, well, well,” Veruna said, looking up from the scattered plans Vriska had left behind on the table. Apparently she too had calmed some in the time since they had last seen each other, if the lack of fish puns was any kind of indication. “I'm glad to see you back, and with twenty minutes to spare. Cutting it close there, Vriska. Still, it's within your winnow, so I guess I can't complain. Well, no, that isn't right. I can carp about anything I feel like. But it won't get us anywhere.”

“What,” Vriska purred, striding towards the stone table and the psychotic troll, “Did you lack faith in me?”

“To be completely honest, girl, I expected your excuse was a chance for you to gather your things and your matesprit and run. Not many trolls would handle what I was suggesting well.”

It had been a temptation, such a temptation, but Vriska'd never say that. Instead she just smiled in a condescending way and rolled her eyes. “I never cease to wonder at how little you believe in my commitment. But hey, you want to worry, your business. I've got my own.”

And she sure did. The last hours had been packed with it. With Sollux she'd started to outline a new plan, most of which she'd have to rough out on her own now, but the outline was important. It meant she could count on Sollux, and now Tavros, to work to getting into contact with the Web members, not quite informing them of what was coming next, so they could prepare for what was coming. Sollux was also supposed to start working some 'highblood' contacts he had to get their security and response rates geared up for the attack. And Tavros... had mostly just been there to help keep Vriska sane. It was a minor role, but an important one, and Sollux promised that he was going to see to finding a place for Tavros in the Web soon enough. 

So here Vriska was, in the presence of a woman that was all but radiating waves of anxiety, just smiling as she started to pull new papers from the pockets of her robe.

“If you don't mind, I started to do some work. My matesprit was late at work so I had a chance to start thinking about things. Would you mind...?”

With a wide, sweeping motion of her arm, Veruna had cleared the table, making plenty of room for Vriska to lay out things on the table. First and foremost was a large roll of paper that featured the blueprints of the Imperial Palace. It had been the last thing Sollux had managed to get to her before Vriska had left to pack up her things. There was still a lot to do so that she could plot out guard movements and such, but the blueprints were vital.

“What's this?” Veruna asked, frowning at the layout. “Vriska, where did you get this?”

“Blackmailing a skilled hacker midblood,” she lied, swiftly and easily. “They won't turn me in. They don't know enough about me to go to the enforcers, and their fingerprints will be all over the hacking done for this job. They'll be taken as a collaborator, not a victim. And if we manage to take out the Empress, no one is going to get off with a slap on the back of the hand.”

“I'm whale aware of that,” Veruna said, settling herself slowly on a stone bench next to the table. “You're sure...”

“If he tries, I'll kill him,” Vriska promised. Again without hesitation. She wasn't sure whether she should be proud of herself or disappointed. Still, the assurance made Veruna comfortable, proud of Vriska. “Anyway, this is the current layout of the Imperial Palace. The party is occurring in the grand ballroom. If my memory of the story of your death is true, then you've never been there. It was built later in the current Empress's life. She's been holding her celebrations there every sweep for the last forty. My research suggests that it's usually set up in the same manner as well. Her security forces are obviously getting slack in her old age...”

Which was as much a disappointment for Vriska as a boon. Failing her attack could be worse than not showing up here would have been. Security laziness made for an easier planned, more likely to be successful attack. At the same time, it meant it was really going to be easier to kill the Empress. All Vriska could hope was that after the attack the Heiress Feferi upped the requirements of her security, forced in new advisors, and made sure that such a tragedy could not happen again. 

“Gyliea was the kind to rest on her tail,” Veruna agreed, smiling widely. “I've always wanted to hook her with that fact.”

“Well, we'll have a chance. From what I understand it shouldn't change, but we'll need some scouts to observe the system anyway. It would screw us over royally, so to speak, if she suddenly decided she wanted to change things around.”

Veruna waved the comment away, fully confident in Vriska's awareness of her. “I've trolls that can get the information you need,” she promised. 

“May I ask who?”

“No. If you prove yourself to me in this work you will be made aware of more of the structure of our movement. For now you will work with what I give you.”

Not the best way to handle things, it meant Vriska was working blind, but it was what she had to work with. Besides, if Vriska found out, managed to pass it all on to Sollux, and see the trolls caught then Veruna would turn on her. No, as much as she hated it, going through with the attack was really the only choice that she had for now. Make one great sacrifice for the sake of the downfall later. 

Maybe, Vriska thought, history will one day forgive me.

But she wouldn't hold her breath.

* * * * * *

It took almost five hours, but at last Vriska managed to slowly walk Veruna through the whole plan as far as Sollux had helped Vriska revise it. Of course, it only took that long because Vriska spent a lot of time hemming and hawing, making notes in margins of the papers she pulled out, and all around acting like she was making her revisions on the spot. It was a masterful display, and Vriska knew it. The longer she kept at it, the more she added tidbits that Veruna thought might help their plans, the more the fuchsia blood believed her. Well and truly believed and looked at Vriska with respect for her. Not true respect of course, Vriska was below her due to her blood, but respect for Vriska's cunning. Which was all Vriska needed, to be honest. Respect for a person themselves might not be enough to see them alive through something. Respect for something a person could do could see them alive through the worst of things. So long as Veruna needed Vriska to plan, she could keep going. Being useful was a powerful thing, even if the troll doing the using didn't realize it.

For all the Veruna was stronger, longer lived, and more capable of violence, Vriska had power in becoming a vital tool for Veruna's goals. 

And her value to Veruna was only confirmed when Vriska started to slip some feigned yawns and drowsiness in as she planned. By the third faked nodding off, Veruna all but flew from her seat, tutting under her breath, and rushing Vriska to her feet. With the fuchsia hovering around her like a worried guardian over a sick wriggler, Vriska found herself shooed from the cave with her non-planning belongings in her arms, and out into the dark of the desert night. What the point of it was, Vriska wasn't sure. But she reveled in the feel of the night air across her skin, the way the light of the moons washed pink over the sand, and the glittering lights in the sky. Chances were the next time she'd see it all would be the night of the attack, and after that... Who knew? Then, suddenly, Veruna had a hand on her shoulder, tight and heavy and painful, and was guiding Vriska around the rock face. Soon enough she was being pushed into a crack in the rocks further along that Vriska hadn't noticed before, and which lead into another large cavern. What Vriska was faced with there was something she had never expected. 

Vriska had thought the meeting chamber had been large, and so she wasn't even prepared for the sheer amount of space in this room. The chamber was more than twice the size of the meeting chamber, and obviously used more often than it. Half of the floorspace was taken up by a deep pool of water, large enough to swim comfortably in and for a troll even the size of a large purple to sink into well over their head. Around it was arranged what Vriska could only describe as a lavishly appointed respite block. One corner, sheltered by the wall of the entrance crack, held a huge rest slab, and along the walls were arranged dressers, desks, tables, and even a small armory filled with tridents and spears. Everything was done in that distinct shade that was the royal blood color, though much of it was splattered with spots of other bloods. Apparently Veruna's propensity for decorating with the blood of her kills wasn't limited to only her clothing and horns. 

“You've...” Vriska said in shock, only to get a chuckle from Veruna.

“No, not entirely. I've got other blocks around other meeting locations. They've been filled over the sweeps with gifts from my followers. The pools take some true work. I've had psionics brought in to create them, then decorated with their blood. Doesn't it make a lovely effect on the walls?”

“I suppose,” Vriska said, trying to hold back her nausea as she realized that the faint discolorations of the stone walls were deliberate, were old blood. It was almost horrifying. How long had Veruna been working in this place for the blood to be so faded? How many had died because they were 'low' in Veruna's eyes, how many because they'd tried to do what Vriska was doing but didn't have the psychic gift and support to pull through? “Forgive me, but I've never been fond of painting, myself. I don't like dirtying my hands with the swill.”

“To each their own,” Veruna mused, laughing. “There is a temporary slab set up for you in the far corner. It's where I place guests I'm entertaining. Oh, but do not worry dear, you'll get a different kind of hospitality from me. For one thing, I have every intention of you making it through the night. Now, we'll have to get back to work in a few hours, but you are welcome to relax in my pool for a while before you sleep. I'll awaken you when I've contacted those I have in place to gather information for you. It will be a few hours. When I return we will eat and begin the next phase of planning, with a few other of my trolls. Don't worry, no one will disturb you in here.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Vriska mumbled, bowing in place. This was likely as much a test as anything else. The eagerness and deceit filling the air more than indicated it to Vriska. Good thing she hadn't brought anything that could damn her except for her husktop, and that had once again been locked down by Sollux. While she slept Veruna would likely send someone to riffle through her stuff, not that they'd find much more than her favorite clothing, some other small personal items, and her husktop. Things would be fine. 

Soon enough Vriska was left alone in the block, Veruna slipping out and off to who knew where. With a sigh Vriska made for the slab in the corner—far smaller and less comfortable looking than Veruna's—and started to hide her stuff under the mattress, pillows, and other areas. Hiding it would be expected, and she wasn't going to disappoint. Well, that wasn't true, she was going to disappoint. There had been another emotion lurking below the surface with Veruna. A kind of underlying desire that told Vriska that Veruna wouldn't mind if she walked back in and found Vriska waiting on Veruna's own slab. Not that they were serious feelings, like the ones Vriska was familiar with from Kanaya. No, it was more ephemeral, fleeting, a little idea in Veruna's mind that she wasn't about to pursue, but wouldn't reject. 

Once her stuff was tucked away Vriska grabbed a fluffy towel from a shelf of them near the pool, stripped down to her bare skin, and slipped into the water on the shallow end of the pool. The fact that there even was a shallow end was comforting. A native seadweller really didn't need one, not with how their gills took over under water, but Vriska had never been a strong swimmer. More like a floundering fool—Veruna would have loved that pun—and she wasn't willing to risk a deeper exploration. That being said, she was all but covered with sand, and the idea of being free of the grit was too tempting to pass up. 

The water was surprisingly warm, all things considered. Vriska had always thought that seadwellers preferred cold water, that they handled heat far worse than she did. Maybe, Vriska wondered, it was just a stereotype based on blood colors and temperatures, and the common temperature of the ocean, but maybe Veruna was more mad than anyone ever seemed to acknowledge. Either way the heat on her skin was pleasant, and Vriska began to wish she had a bar of Kanaya's scented cleaning bars. But no, there was no chance of that. This was Veruna's personal access to the primal desires of a seadweller. Polluting it with cleaning supplies would never even cross her mind. Which meant Vriska had little choice but slip back out of the pool, dripping wet, to grab another towel for her to scrub the sand off with. 

Still, without cleaning chemicals to concern her, there was little that Vriska could do. The towels didn't quite serve to get all of the dust and sand free of her hair, and in the end Vriska surrendered to the frustrating attempt, and hauled herself from the pool. The wet towel was tossed aside towards a soiled clothing receptacle near the wall, and the dry one wrapped around her. On Vriska the towel was almost large enough to be a short dress, which was hardly surprising due to the fact that Veruna had two feet on Vriska before horns even began to come into play. In fact, the towel was so large on her that Vriska grabbed a second carried it over to the slab, to use as a warming cloth. It would be large enough that it should serve to keep her covered, even if she shifted in her sleep. 

Wrapped in the towel and covered by another, Vriska closed her eyes and forced herself to sleep. Who knew when the next time she would get the chance to sleep, without resorting to her hidden sopor pills, would be.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter. Hopefully nearing the end. I am aiming to have this done by chapter 21, but there may be more than that. I expect 25 would be the upper limit. May be done as early as chapter 19. I don't know. Depends on how Vriska decides to work with me (or not).

There was a huge difference between planning an assassination while running only on adrenaline, caffeine, and sopor pills, and pulling off an assassination while running on only adrenaline, piss poor coffee, and sopor pills. Unfortunately it was just something she had to deal with. Since the moment she'd awoken in Veruna's respite block things had been all business. Keeper had been looming over her, a lecherous look in his eyes and disgusting feelings flowing from him that made Vriska long for another bath. Luckily it had been a simple matter for Vriska to knock him out with a well placed kick, though it meant over the day of planning he made sure she got far less than was proper whenever he brought food or drinks into the meeting room for Vriska and the violet blooded adviser named Kythal who had arrived during the night. In the end Vriska wasn't sure what had made her less comfortable: the insufficient food and sleep, or the sheer amount of cunning wisdom that Kythal possessed. 

Kythal wasn't like any other seadweller Vriska had ever met. He possessed a level of self-assurance that Veruna lacked, that Vriska hadn't even sensed from the Empress Gyliea and Heiress Feferi when she had first been in their presence. When he looked at Vriska it was a calm, cold kind of calculating that she could only hope to match on her best days. And he was smart, too smart for Vriska's tastes. Every time she tried to work a deliberate hole into the plans to make things easier for the Web and whatever plans Sollux would make, Kythal found them and ways to sew them up. More frustrating than that, he managed to do it all without making Vriska seem like a total failure in Veruna's eyes. Instead he just made himself seem superior, made it seem like it was his superiority as a higher blood that made it possible for him to notice something that a 'moderately respectable blueblood could be expected to know.' It was infuriating, in a platonic kind of way. And yet it was also useful to know. Something that she'd set Sollux to the moment she could get back into contact with him. Whoever this Kythal was, he was the true threat behind the hemohierarchist movement. An old, wise violet with savage horns shaped like the scimitars he carried at his sides, who wanted more than the world and Empress saw fit to give him. Veruna might be the spirit of the hemohierarchist movement, but here was clearly her strongest supporter, and with him the true pan of the operation. Taking down Veruna would mean pulling the power out from under Kythal's feet, but that wasn't a task to be taken lightly, or while getting by on adrenaline, caffeine, and sopor pills. 

In the end, though, the finished plan had been more than 90% of Vriska's construction, drawn out as long as she could manage, and tweaked in that 10% by Veruna's desires or Kythal's intelligence on the wriggling day celebration's arrangements. Kythal had slipped out, begging his Empress's pardon to go out and start to assemble the three teams they would need for the work. For all that Vriska had been promised the right to build her own team, Veruna had quickly relented to the will of the troll who would be her general. 

And now, tired, undermined, and terrified about what came next, Vriska sat at her appointed waiting position in a cafe a few blocks away from the Imperial Palace. Her team, already nominally briefed by Kythal, would be arriving by bits and pieces for the next hour or so, leaving Vriska to another cup of coffee to stand in for the lack of rest. The only positive side to all of this—to the knowledge that her life as she knew it was about to end—was the fact that at least the coffee was of high quality. 

The thought almost made Vriska break into hysterical laughter. Here she was, throwing her life away, working to murder the Empress of Beforus, and all she could really think about was the quality of her cup of boiling water passed through ground up beans with only a hint of sugar. Was she going mad from lack of sleep? Or was the stress getting to her, now that the moment was approaching and she didn't have her moirail or her number one conspirator to fall back upon? 

The wheels were in motion, the irons in the fire, and there was nothing she could do to stop things from starting now. 

As Vriska moved to set aside her coffee, there was truly only so much of it that a troll could handle in two days before losing all taste for the stuff, she noticed that there was a small, white slitherbeast curled up on the small saucer that had come with the cup. With a sigh she set her cup to the side and reached for the tail of the slitherbeast. What was the creature even doing here? Oh well, it didn't belong on the saucer and wasn't going to do the beast any harm if she moved it, whereas leaving it in place might upset a troll with a more delicate sensibility and get the thing harmed. Tavros would hardly respect her if he ever found that she'd failed to protect a poor little slitherbeast just because she couldn't be bothered to care. 

It was odd to see one of the pure white creatures such as Tavros tended in the middle of one of the larger cities. Other beasts were kept more frequently as pets, valued as they were for the various colors they lent to a hive. But the pure white beasts were far less common in cities, for all that they were abundant in the wild areas. Pretty much all of the creatures she'd seen Tavros tending to had been the pure white beasts. 

The slitherbeast didn't even try to flee when Vriska reached for it, for all that it raised its little head and let its warm orange-brown forked tongue flick over her finger. It tickled, and Vriska even smiled at the small creature. Hopefully it wouldn't decide that she tasted bad and that she should be bitten. Instead, the slitherbeast rose further, its tongue flicking out once more as it started to move, of its own will, up Vriska's hand. The scales of its belly rasped as they passed over her flesh, and the beast's tongue flicked out time and time again as it worked itself further up her hand, and finally slipped its spade shaped head under her sleeve. With a sigh Vriska pulled her sleeve back, then gently grasped the slitherbeast around its head and removed it from her arm. 

“Sorry, little guy, you don't want to hang around me. It isn't going to be a pretty ride,” she said as she cradled the slitherbeast's body in her now free hand. For a moment she was almost willing to swear that the creature was glaring at her, which she quickly discarded as she lowered the slitherbeast to the ground. “My moirail would be disappointed if I let you come along.”

No sooner had she released it than the slitherbeast was making its way for her boot. The creature moved surprisingly fast for your garden variety small slitherbeast, and as Vriska watched it started to wrap itself around her boot, obviously trying to climb her leg and not getting very far with it. Well, say what she wanted about it, the slitherbeast was obviously as determined to linger around her as she was to deal with the hierarchists. It was almost respectable, if there was any chance that the slitherbeast was doing anything particularly intentional. She probably just tasted good or something. Beasts didn't think after all, didn't plan didn't act like...

That wasn't right, was it? At least, not necessarily true of white beasts. Hadn't she seen such at Tavros's hive. Was the behavior of the creatures he tended to because they were more intelligent than normal creatures kept as pets, or because they spent time with him, or because of his psychic gift? The white fairybull had been intelligent enough, but had that been Tavros or the fairybull? What about the young hoofbeast? Or the hopbeast that had announced her approach? How much was the beasts and how much Tavros. 

And a better question... Just how far could Tavros's influence reach? 

Carefully Vriska bent over and started to unwrap the slitherbeast from her ankle, coiling it carefully in her palm as she did so. Once she was done she lifted the creature back up to the table, setting it before her and staring at it carefully. At last she leaned in, staring the slitherbeast in the eyes as she tried to reach out with her empathy and glean something from the mind of the creature. But it was useless. Predictably useless. There was really no point in trying, but she had hoped, just for a moment... 

“You're just outside of my knowing, little slitherbeast,” Vriska sighed, leaning down to rest her head on her arms and look at the creature even closer. “I don't know why I even tried.”

Again the orange-brown tongue flicked out, this time tickling the tip of her nose. Vriska couldn't help but smile. How many trolls could claim to have had their nose tickled by a slitherbeast and be telling the truth? 

“You did that on purpose,” she accused, her voice playful. Better than annoyed. If she was amused people walking by might just assume she was talking to her pet, not to some random slitherbeast that had decided it liked her. 

Much to Vriska's surprise, the slitherbeast seemed to bob its little head in agreement. All she could do for a moment was stare at it. Had she really just seen that or was she getting delusional with all of the stress and lack of sleep and caffeine? 

“Did you just nod?” she whispered to the slitherbeast, almost ashamed to ask. Of course it hadn't. 

But there it was again, the bobbing of the head, very deliberate. Very exaggerated. This... couldn't be happening, could it?

“No, this isn't real. I'm just...” And yet, if Tavros was strong enough, it might be possible. Vriska herself couldn't know, had never developed her gift enough to reach very far with many people, but Tavros had been properly trained. But the chances of him finding her... No, even those could be solved if Sollux was half as smart as she knew he had to be, and if Tavros just searched for her through the eyes of the beasts of the city, not truly latching onto a mind until he found her. 

“Okay, so let's go about this logically. Yes is two taps of your tail. No is shaking your head twice. Do you understand?”

Two taps. By the Mother Grub.

“You're really understanding me?”

Two taps again, these slow and exaggerated and oddly seeming impatient. 

“Is this slitherbeast sharing its mind with a beasttalker?”

Two more taps, and Vriska's pusher was pounding. What were the chances? Infinitesimal, either towards large or small. Sollux could tell her one way or another, but she had no way of asking him. 

“Tavros?”

Another two taps and Vriska was doing her best not to cry. He kept on finding ways to be there for her when she needed him the most. How could he be so impossibly amazing?

“You found me,” she said, trying hard not to get choked up. “I don't know how you did it, but you sure did do it, Tavros. Thanks.”

The slitherbeast moved closer, pressing its head against her wrist as if to soothe her. Somehow the gesture was enough to relax her, just a bit. 

“So, you can hear everything I tell this slitherbeast?”

Again the double tap, and Vriska couldn't help but smile. “Why don't you stick around for a while? You can do that, right? Good. My team will be here soon and I'm expected to take them off to a preparation location and go over the plan again. Sollux will need to act fast, but I'm sure the extra information can do him good, you know? If he's got all of it, maybe he can make this less bad. So I need you to keep the slitherbeast calm so I can hide him somewhere on me. Is that okay?”

Double tap, and the slitherbeast was raising its head more as if very attentive. 

“So what we're going to do is I'm going to try him in a few places I don't expect him to get hurt, and you've got to let m e know if you can hear what I'm saying. Two taps for yes, four for no, okay? If you can't hear anything, wait about three seconds before tapping. Right?”

A confirmation and Vriska proceeded about the weirdest game of hide and find she had ever heard of before. At last she settled for letting the slitherbeast wrap itself around her throat, careful to hide it under the collar of her shirt. It didn't seem to lend itself as well to Tavros hearing other people, which Vriska learned when a waittroll came to refill her coffee, but kept the slitherbeast out of sight and relatively safe even if she should trip and fall during the upcoming stress. 

It didn't hurt that it almost felt like the living necklace in its loose coils around her neck was embracing her like a moirail should.

“Thank you, Tav,” she whispered, half to herself and half to her newly hidden passenger, as she leaned back in her chair and waited for her team to arrive. 

The slitherbeast's head momentarily brushed against her collarbone. 

Somehow, it was one of the most reassuring things Vriska had ever felt in her life.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news guys, gals, and those with other gender identifications. There is no more happy left! Everything from here on is the other kind of feels. So you could just stop. Turn back. Avoid pain. No? You're still here? Wonderful. Let's get to it.

“Scorpio to Dorado. Read me Dorado?”

“Reading you, Scorpio. You're in position?”

“I'm in all sorts of positions. You really can't believe it. Flexibility is all sorts of wonderful.”

“I am in no mood for your shenanigans, Scorpio. Are you in position?”

“Well, considering the fact that I'm the one who ordered radio silence from all until my team was in position, of course I'm in fucking position you glubbing idiot,” Vriska snarled, rolling her eyes to no real end because it wouldn't be seen through the small microphone at her neck or receiver in her ear. With a sigh she leaned back against the stone wall of the alleyway and sighed.

“Good, proceed as outlined,” Dorado, Kythal, hissed over the comm before the line went silent. At least the seadweller hadn't presumed to tell her what happened next. This was her plan, well to be fair it was as much Sollux's as her own, but that was beside the point. Even when planning the worst terrorist attack in Beforus's history was something she had some degree of pride in. It took a special kind of cunning, that few possessed, to pull something like this off. A pan that could hold details like a vice, and Vriska wasn't about to forget something as simple as how her team was to act? Especially after just having briefed them? 

“Fucking seadwellers,” Vriska sighed, dramatic and loud, earning her a few looks, and emotional flashes, of shared anguish. 

It was one of the funniest parts of the idea of hemohierarchy to Vriska. Building this society Veruna wanted by war meant her 'upper' class was being made on violence. They would get a taste for it—Vriska knew because she was starting to see it in herself—and would want more. They'd want more power than they'd get. She'd seen it these sweeps, the inherent hatred and distrust the bluebloods had for seadwellers. It was a point only pushed further into her beliefs with the response to her comment from the team of purples, indigos, and the one other cerulean blood.

Even if Veruna got her desires, the fighting wouldn't stop. It would change, but not stop. Jockeying for position, highblood trolls trying to figure out internal hierarchies, fighting to control 'lowblood resources' for themselves. Today Vriska would deal the first blow in a war that would never end unless Veruna was stopped short of the throne, and maybe not even then. 

Except it wasn't the first blow. There had been so many before this. Tavros, Cyclos, Karkat and Remium, and countless trolls before them. With every beating the hemohierarchists had dealt, they had declared war. All Vriska was doing was guiding the first highly visible blow. 

“Well, you grubs ready?” Vriska asked, pushing off of the wall. 

The rest of her team, the main part of the strike, nodded in response. Vriska, though, waited for a salute from the other cerulean with the group. He was the youngest of her team, a full two sweeps younger than she was herself, but a true believer no doubt. From what Vriska had been able to piece together from Kythal's hints, the troll had been raised by a hard line and staunch supporter of Veruna, much like Vriska had. But this one hadn't had been granted the saving grace of the vision eightfold or empathy. He hadn't been raised with others to see how they could be treated, and share their pain. No, this young troll known only to her as Bomber had always believed, strongly believed even now and was almost shaking with pride for what was being asked of him. It was this troll that had been expected to assemble the explosive that Sollux had designed, who would place it, who would risk the chance of dying to kill the Empress if something went wrong. 

Here was her sacrificial pawn, and he was everything Vriska might have been had she not been born with her gifts. And in the small shoulder bag he wore was the message Veruna wanted delivered in the form of just enough explosives to make a scene, kill and Empress, and deal some serious collateral damage. 

“Then let's get to it,” Vriska ordered, gesturing for her team to follow her further down the alley and into the backstreets of the capital. 

Their entrance, and means of attack were already secured. Kythal had pulled some strings with his plants in the palace to have Vriska's team assigned to service detail during the celebration. They would be mingling with the crowd, passing out poisoned drinks (though Vriska had seen to some personal modification of the powder they were to add to the drinks, which should let most of the victims survive until medical aid could save as many as possible), and clearing the way for Bomber to get to the podium where the Empress would give her speech about the betterment of their peoples. Kythal's team had taken up places as enforcers, something they had done very carefully to avoid raising warning flags, such as they were. That team would lock down the doors just before the explosion, trapping in the surviving trolls to bear witness to the glory of Veruna and her speech. Then that group, composed of purples and violets, would see to the escape of Veruna and the other team, before getting out themselves. 

“Let this go well,” Vriska whispered to herself, and as she did the slitherbeast hidden around her neck stroked her throat in as comforting a way as a slitherbeast could. 

She had to have faith that Sollux and Tavros had dealt with everything necessary, even the collateral they had planned for but may have been difficult to implement with how little time they had. But Sollux had never let her down before, and so now was the worst time for Vriska to doubt him. He'd have done everything in his power, and then some, to make sure as many trolls as possible survived. The Empress too, if they were lucky. Not that Vriska saw them being that lucky. Something, some bit of her that she couldn't quite define, told her that that kind of luck wasn't going to be coming to them tonight. 

Still, there was something expected of her right now, and so it was what Vriska did. Calm, collected, cold, she lead her team through the alleys and streets until they were near the palace. Then, briefly, she pressed the button on her microphone twice to signal Kythal of their arrival, then pulled it off, the headphones out, and smashed both of them under her feet. Soon, far too soon, they stood at the door of the service entrance, and Vriska was smiling at the enforcer there—a violet who radiated the kinds of anxious excitement that all the other hierarchists did today—as she waved Vriska and her group in through the service entrance door. 

From there it was all so easy. Vriska had already portioned out their poisons into vials hidden up every hierarchist server's sleeves, to be sprinkled onto food and into punch bowls, and even more carefully into the glasses of bubbling drink that would be carried by the servers. Her team took their instructions from the food preparation staff well, even putting up with the rather finicky Jade blood who was in charge of things to straighten their uniforms and even hair to her satisfaction. Then, with the sign she had rehearsed with the group several times, Vriska dismissed her team to their duties. 

The attack had begun.

* * * * * *

“May I offer you a drink?” Vriska asked, as she approached yet another cluster of midbloods. This was her third tray of drinks, and because of the timing, the first she had laced with the poison. As she had been doing before, Vriska did her best to pull off the most civilized appearance she could. It was really rather simple when she thought about it, all she had to do was pretend she was Kanaya at some fancy shindig. 

“Ah, yeah... I could totally go for a... Vriska?” 

All Vriska could do was stare at the teal blood before her, eyes wide and shocked. Yeah, her gut feeling had been right. Luck really wasn't with her tonight. After all, only the luckless would somehow manage to stumble upon someone they knew while in the midst of a celebration. At least, of all the trolls it was, it was one Vriska wasn't particularly fond of. 

“Do you know this troll, Terezi?” said one of the olive bloods near Terezi Pyrope, clad in a rather lovely dress but also wearing the bars at her shoulder that marked both this olive and Terezi as legisticators. 

“Ex-Kismesis,” Terezi explained, waving off further explanation.

“Oh...” the olive legisticator said, a hint of embarrassment flavoring the emotional air around Vriska.

“We ended up ashen with her flush crush,” Vriska snapped, smirking viciously and watching, feeling Terezi seethe at the revelation. 

“I hardly think this is time for quadrant talk,” Terezi countered, giving Vriska one of her sharp smiles. 

“It's never the right time for you. How sad. You've only got the blacker areas quadrants filled,” Vriska teased, still smiling. If there was one thing she didn't regret, it was feigning black with Terezi. But, for all that, she didn't want the crazy bitch in that quadrant at all. Gamzee was welcome to a black relationship with Terezi, Vriska had never enjoyed it. Terezi just never let up, leaving Vriska to just beat her up until Terezi just left her be. Besides, Kanaya had been set on helping her moirail win his desired matesprit, and Vriska had been the right tool for that job. 

“Vriska...” 

“Do you want drinks or not?” Vriska snapped, shoving the tray forward to the group, turning it subtly to present Terezi with one of the poison-free glasses. Karkat would never forgive her anything if she let Terezi die here. 

“Well, nice to see you actually working for once in your life,” Terezi said, taking the offered glass and looking every bit the proper civil servant. 

“Not all of us can trade in on our schoolfeeding to get into the party of the sweep,” Vriska countered, feigning complete comfort with her work. Legisticators were welcome to these celebrations, as were lowbloods. Most of the higher bloods were here in some form of service, to reinforce the idea of the system. Even the Empress and Heiress, after the first few hours, would join the service, bringing meals to those older trolls who were present and were less able to walk around and seek their own food. 

“Why Vriska, are you suggesting that I used less than absolutely faultless methods of acquiring my place here?” Terezi asked.

“I've never known you to come by something completely honestly in your life, Terezi. Not even your kismesis's hate.”

That earned her a particularly brutal glare through Terezi's trademark crimson shades, but not enough of one that Vriska was much bothered by her. Rather, instead of letting Terezi get a word in edgewise and get the upper hand in their discussion, Vriska just turned on heel and strode away from the group, leaving the fuming—but likely outwardly calm—Terezi behind her. There was always something wonderful about leaving that girl fuming. 

Still, having Terezi here was less than optimal. Even if her partner in the ashen quadrant managed to make it through the night, Karkat was going to be furious to find that Vriska might have hurt Terezi despite his best efforts to be the perfect auspitice for the two of them. Damn, the poor idiot would blame himself for all of this. As lucky as Karkat was to have his moirail near him, that didn't mean he was going to be anything but up in arms to find that Vriska might have hurt Terezi. Which left her little choice but to do one thing.

“Tavros, can you hear me?” Vriska whispered under her breath as she sidestepped around a group of lowbloods already holding drinks. Poor fools. 

Two taps against her throat. Good, her moirail was still there. 

“I need you to pass a message on to Sollux. Tell him Karkat needs to know I am doing everything I can to keep Terezi from harm.”

Another two taps, and then Vriska was hovering on the edge of another group, this one closer to the podium than the last, offering them the poisoned drinks. Hopefully they'd survive the concoction. Sollux had helped her pick something that was slow acting when mixed with alcohols, and which hit the far hardier coldbloods before it hit the normally more easily affected warm bloods. Something about how it moved through the blood being different, but Vriska hadn't really paid attention. Hopefully some of the colder blooded trolls present would start to show the characteristic signs early enough that both they and a good deal of the lowbloods could be saved. Someone would chalk it up to foolishness on the part of the hierarchists, and Vriska would blame her supplier and offer the dead corpse of a known drug dealer to Veruna in compensation, hoping she made it through the killing. But after today, if she didn't become able to push aside some of the suffering...

Vriska easily pushed the thought out of her mind as she cordially offered drinks, letting her eyes wander instead towards the stage. The Empress, Heiress, and their entourage would soon be coming out, hopefully with the surprise addition that Sollux had said he'd try to get placed into the mix. The addition to the royal party, Sollux's move to protect the Heiress from things. After all, the last thing they wanted was for Veruna to win so easily by taking out the Empress and Heiress in one go. Sure, there were other fuchsia bloods that could take over, but none who had spent their lives training like Feferi had. The hope was that the yellow blooded enforcer woman that Sollux was trying to get placed with the royal party could protect Feferi when things happened. Sollux had sworn himself blue and red that the woman would be useful for that. That they'd met during their training in their psychic gifts, and that the other troll had been gifted with a peculiar form of clairvoyance. The yellow apparently lived both in the present and two minutes in the future. That should be just enough time that she wouldn't be able to save the Empress, but might be able to protect Feferi from the initial blast and get her out of there still glubbing.

At least, that was the hope. 

A sudden hush rolled over the room, and Vriska almost froze at the emotions that rolled over here from every direction. Joy, excitement, several points of bloodthirsty satisfaction. 

She already knew what she'd find, and yet Vriska let her eyes cast a little bit to the side of the podium where Bomber had likely already hidden the explosive. There, almost spilling from the only door that apparently wasn't protected by one of Kythal's enforcer replacements if Vriska was any judge of the emotions of the pair of seadwellers who stood on either side of the the door, was the royal party. A group of younger fuchsia bloods leading the way, following behind the chief of the Enforcers, Enforcer Tethys Hydrus and her ward and second in command, Eridan Ampora. Go figure he'd be here too. Oh well, if the yellow blooded troll, who Vriska now saw entering the room at the elbow of the Heiress, didn't succeed in protecting her, Vriska knew Eridan would fight to the death to protect her. That was what moirails were for. There was a slitherbeast around her throat that went far to reinforce that point. Then, finally, came Empress Gyliea, looking as regal and collected as she had the judgement chamber, when Vriska had sat before the great troll in judgement and secured freedom for her wardmates. 

Gyliea didn't deserve this. 

None of the trolls here deserved this.

But it had to happen.

For the war to end it had to start. And for it to start this most noble of blood had to be spilled. 

Vriska waited for the Empress to reach the podium, glanced around the ballroom rapidly as the royal party took their seats between the Empress and what would be their escape route, and caught sight of the doors. Enforcers that had previously been at rather lazy parade rest were suddenly at full attention. They were primed, ready, and already Vriska could hear coughing in the far corners of the ballroom, a sure sign that the poison was claiming its first victims. 

And there, when she sought far and wide with her empathy, recoiling quickly from most minds and emotions, she found the cool, self-possessed wall of serious intent that could only be Kythal. Her gift told her he stood at the rearmost door of the grand ballroom. From there Veruna would make her entrance, once the signal was given. 

Again her eyes cast around, rapidly, only to barely catch sight of Bomber approaching her from behind. 

A quick hand signal, down below her waist, was all that was needed. Once it was given she could sense the resolution in Bomber, and immediately Vriska—like the rest of her team around the ballroom mere moments after her—was flipping her tray to drop the drinks, and crouching down, using the sturdy metal tray to protect the back of her head and her easily damaged horns.

Confusion radiated around the whole room, and only had a moment to register in Vriska's mind before all she could process was the thundering noise of the explosion and hundreds of trolls lifting their voices in fruitless screams. 

Then the room is a riot of emotions, thick and fast, and all Vriska can do is scream back in her mind, trying to keep them from overwhelming her.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only thing I really have been able to handle writing this week. I've been feeling pretty miserable, you know? But while I was recovering I found a pen, some paper, and started to write. Because I feel like the best thing I can do when I feel miserable is to take it out on characters. But you expected that, right? We all knew this couldn't stay happy, right?

There had been few points in Vriska's life where she'd truly regretted failing to tell her guardian about her gift. The first real time had been when she'd been in the hive during Gamzee's rampage. The burning fire of the purple's rage had been compelling, and Vriska had half wanted to tear out her own guardian's throat. And Karkat's pity and desperation, confusion and clear flushed feelings had almost overwhelmed her in their own way. Even as she'd struggled to keep Gamzee from—justifiably—bludgeoning her guardian to death Vriska had wished she could better control her empathic gift. The second time had been the first time she had been forced to stand by and watch as Veruna killed someone. The third had been killing the rustblood, when the pain had been mixed with the rush of power of the misusing of her gift. 

None of those compared to what she felt now, huddled on the floor of the ballroom and clutching at her horns. Her pan swirled with different flavors of fear, panic, pain, joy, fury, and too many other emotions to name. They fought her for control, the waves of emotion refusing to leave her alone no matter how much she struggled to press them aside. It was the only thing Vriska could think of, the only thing in her mind. Whether a minute or hours had passed, she didn't know, though if she could have spared a thought to it Vriska would likely have decided it was only minutes, because no one had even touched her yet. But she couldn't think, could only struggle in her own mind for sanity. 

If only the pans around hers were more like Equius's. Voids she couldn't pierce, could not touch. But no, they were the minds of common trolls, ones that lived their whole lives guided by volatile emotions. Yet the very memory of the chill touch of her kismesis's pan was enough for an idea, at least on an instinctual level. As swiftly as it could her pan wove together its own wall, wrapped itself in a cocoon of indifference and ignorance. And as layer after layer spun itself around her pan, the pressure of the emotions lessened. Layer after layer after layer and she could see. Could hear the trolls around her screaming, shouting, panicking. Could feel a pain in her right leg that made her wince as she stood. Could see the trolls running around as if the world was ending, many cut down by the enforcers at the doors. 

Vriska only barely had time to examine her leg—cut by a shard of glass from the drinks she'd dropped as likely as not—before something called to her through the protective cocoon around her pan. Not that if was powerful enough to do so, but familiar, something her gift marked, highlighted in her pan. It felt like Veruna and Kythal as well. Sure enough as Vriska turned to face the doors at the far end of the ballroom, they sprang open and from them came Kythal and Veruna with a small guard of violets. In Kythal's hands was a large energy rifle, such as was banned for anyone planetside, used as they were for planetary defense systems. Veruna too was armed, carrying with her a large, golden, three-pronged and dual headed warfork. The others with them also carried a variety of weapons, making their intentions more than abundant clear. Good thing Vriska had managed to convince them that survivors were ideal for telling the story of fear. 

Veruna didn't look much like Vriska had ever seen her before. The rebel Empress didn't wear her bloodied white dress, and her horns were even clean and shining. Hair normally left in disarray was bound in a braid that trailed after her on the floor, and its dark shine offsetting the fuchsia of her long gown. She was radiant, the picture of a benevolent ruler, and a pure and simple lie. Which would be obvious to anyone who heard of what happened here today. A troll who committed, allowed an act like this would never be mistaken for kind or caring. Especially not with how she was looking around, her eyes cold and uncaring as she regarded the suffering around her. 

Well, there would be time to deal with that one soon enough. The more pressing concern was the royal's party. Quickly Vriska turned her attention, psychic and physically, towards the platform at the front of the room. There was little of it left, and yet Vriska could sense minds there. A rush of activity even. Someone, multiple someones, were still alive over there. Immediately she grabbed the place where her pants were cut by the glass and tore with all her might. The fabric parted easily, leaving only a scant length covering her leg, and bearing the pair of daggers strapped to her leg. They were in her hands, more for her own protection than anyone's harm, as she advanced towards the platform. As risky as it was, she needed to know what was happening. She needed to know where they stood, if Feferi was still breathing, if her and the other fuchsias got out alive. 

The center of the platform was a smoking ruin. The precious wood that made it was burning. And behind it Vriska could feel waves of pain. As she watched her vision eightfold focused sharply to pick up some movement. The shape was easily identified through the smoke, things always were when she focused. Tethys Hydrus was kneeling, a horrified look on her face, a blade in her hand. The Enforcer's lips were moving, not that her words reached Vriska. There were still so many screaming voices, shouting voices, protesting voices. Vriska still knew what was being said, the perks of mutation. Tethys was calling for Eridan, ordering him to grab the Heiress and other girls, and get them to safety. Good, at least they were still alive. Yet things boded badly for everyone if Tethys stuck around, there would be a fight. And if she remained, there was nothing to guarantee that her ward would obey, even if it was in everyone's best interests. 

Which meant it might as well be up to Vriska to give him a reason to haul keel and get his moirail and her wardmates out of here. It might be the only way the Heiress made it through this. So, daggers in hand, Vriska threw herself at the ruined platform and where Eridan would be with Feferi.

They were just about where Vriska expected to find the pair, on the ground behind the platform. Feferi was holding one of the younger fuchsias tight in her arms, holding her sister in her tears despite the fact that Feferi herself seemed ready to cry. Her dress was torn and charred at the edges, her hair singed, her iconic goggles cracked but not falling apart. The other girls were curled around Feferi, looking and radiating fear, even when their eyes fell upon their enforcer guardians. Between the nervously glubbing girls and Vriska's daggers stood a furious, bleeding, sword wielding seatroll she'd only ever met over Trollian: Eridan Ampora. 

“Still here, fishy?” Vriska asked, crooned really, twirling one of the daggers through her fingers and smiling as widely as possible. 

“What do you want, traitor?” Eridan hissed, his voice wavering, though not with nerves. No, it was righteous indignation, and sounded a bit like his typing quirk too. To be honest, Vriska had always wondered how that would sound. Too bad she had to learn under these circumstances. 

“Lose your taste for reform, highblood? Shame. Thought maybe you'd still be harboring some aspirations after all this time. But no, you don't have the shame globes for stabbing your moirail in the back, do you?” Vriska quipped. She was already damned for her actions, why not take them further to save the life of someone that, for all intents and purposes, counted as a friend? 

All Eridan could do for a moment was stare at her, his fully violet eyes wide with shock. As well he should be really, but that was the way things went. His enforcer troops were less hesitatnt though. They had stayed themselves at Eridan's body language, but at Vriska's hierarchist language, they had started to move, en mass, towards her. Would have rushed her too had Eridan not noticed and waved them off, and slid so easily into a defensive stance. 

“Vriska.”

“In the flesh, Ampora. And I've got to say, you're really doing a lot of my job for me, leaving the fuchsia flock here. So kind.”

A flash of pure rage, almost enough to threaten the memory of Gamzee's righteous fury, and then Eridan was moving. Were it not for her own sweeps of training, or repeated nights spent learning to react before thinking, the blade would have taken her left arm. As it was, her dagger swept up and around, knocking into his blade. It wasn't effective so much as surprising, and when Eridan flinched at the move, Vriska brought the other dagger into play, making a cut for his chest. The seadweller danced back a step, and when Vriska felt for him with her gift she almost smiled at the faint flicker of shock and indecision. It was gone as quickly as it came, and already Eridan was on the attack. Vriska's world became a thing of parries and blocks, of whirling blades flashing with light and narrow misses on both sides. All the while her gift kept her appraised of Veruna and Kythal's slow advance across the ballroom floor, reminding her just how important it was to get this finished soon. By the time the pair made the ruined platform there would be no chance for Feferi's escape. 

A defensive approach to the battle was obviously not working. Vriska had to run the risk of injury if things were to go well. There was little else to be done, really, and gritting her teeth she lunged forward, ducking below the strike that Eridan had no idea he telegraphed perfectly for someone with vision eightfold. Eridan wasn't prepared for the move, meaning Vriska had free reign to cut in with a dagger, forcing Eridan to stumble back a step to keep her from slicing him right across the gills. It didn't give her much room, though, because Eridan immediately pressed right back in. He brought his far larger weapon down in an overhanded strike, and it was all Vriska could do to cross her daggers and catch the attack, then throw it quickly to the side. This time Eridan was at a loss for a moment, thrown to the side, and Vriska too the chance to bring her daggers to his throat. They were close now, too close for either of their comfort, but it was what it was: her chance. 

“Eridan,” Vriska hissed, under her breath so that only he could hear it. 

“This isn't the time for talk, Serket.”

“And yet here we are,” she said, utterly serious. “Eridan, you have to get the Heiress out immediately. Veruna will have them killed if you remain here.”

“Like you care. You're trying to...”

“Save your glubbing life. Just take my word for this. You NEED to get them to safety. Please. They are our future.”

“Vriska...”

“We've been still too long. I need you to knock me down. Then look around, notice the approaching force, and command your men to grab the girls and leave, like your guardian commanded.”

“I...”

“Just do it fish soup pan.”

There was no time to prepare herself for the knee that Eridan delivered to her torso. It was powered by all the strength a violet could muster, and Vriska could feel a rib break under the blow. Damn him for making it so serious. The problem was that Eridan didn't end it there. Didn't just let that be the blow that ended it. As she fell Vriska had time to see the blade flash out, moving as if it was in slow motion as it neared her seven-pupil eye. All she could do was close her eyes as tightly as possible and pray even as pain erupted in her pan. 

Through the haze of the pain she heard Eridan start shouting orders, heard movement rushing around her as the Heiress and fuchsias were gathered and rushed for the secured exit. Somewhere beyond her, Vriska could sense Veruna's fury, directed quite clearly at Vriska, and Kythal's resigned annoyance. Soon the sounds of Eridan and his group faded behind the creaking of a door, leaving Vriska to finally risk opening her eyes. 

It was a slow process, and a painful one. Her normal eye was perfectly alright with opening, with looking around, with just being. But the mutated... the pain was far too much to even try to open it fully. She gave in quickly, groaning in pain as she slowly sat up. With her uninjured eye she could see Kythal and Veruna's increased pace, but little of the details. Odd, how blurry and unclear the world looked when she didn't have her full vision eightfold. Was this the sort of thing that normal trolls had to deal with? Pathetic. There were more pressing things to consider than that, though, and Vriska quickly tore one of the sleeves off of her service uniform. That sleeve was quickly torn into strips that she used to gently clean as much of the blood as possible from her face The rest was turned into padding over her eye, and the other sleeve came off to tie the bundle into place to protect her injury for now. There would be a chance to deal with the injury later, to make sure Eridan hadn't ruined her vision. She didn't think he had, she could still feel the potential of her vision in her pan, but who was to say that was enough. 

But no, that wasn't a concern for the moment. Veruna was approaching and Vriska had to deal with that. Carefully Vriska rose, daggers back in hand, and clambered back over the platform. It was time to meet with her master. Time for the announcement. Time for the world to end.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by public transit.

“Whale that was a poor shoaling,” Veruna said, sounding and feeling disappointed. 

“No no, I don't need an y help. Don't mind me,” Vriska grumbled as she advanced upon the pair of highbloods and their entourage. “How about we save judgment for when you've finished off your own target?”

“Her Highness won't fail like some trolls,” Kythal observed, rather dryly. 

“Well, her Highness wasn't dueling with the ward of Enforcer Hydrus, who I will point out is not only stronger than me, but has likely been trained in various combat forms since he was a sweep old,” Vriska countered. It had been an excuse she'd come up with while stumbling over to the group. Kythal quickly accepted it with a condescending nod, as if there was no surprise that a cerulean could not best a violet. Veruna, though, frowned severely. 

“What happened to pan over fists, my dear?”

Good thing she had an honest answer to that one. Somehow Vriska hadn't expected the question. Man, she just wasn't having any of the luck today. Well, not entirely true. There was still the slitherbeast around her neck that assured her of the support of her moirail. Then again said slitherbeast was now tickling her collar as its tongue flicked in and out to sample her blood. Maybe it wasn't under such good control. Just what she needed.

“It can be rendered a bit more of a moot point when dealing with trolls trained at Ampora's level. My combat trainer liked to point out that a seasoned combatant thinks with more than their pan. They think with their eyes, ears, arms and legs. They react with all the speed of a thought, and strike with all the power of an idea.”

“You trained under Jorale?” Kythal asked, leaving Vriska to stare as the 'royal' party moved past her. 

“No,” she spat out quickly, stumbling after Kythal and Veruna. “His first ward, Artour.”

“Good troll, Artour. Misguided and in love with the system, but he knows nothing more. Such is the way of many indigos,” Kythal sighed and with a gesture sent their violet guards forward. The screaming and shouting had died down as the poisons and sedatives in the food and drinks started to set in, leaving few non-hierarchists standing. Sure, there were knots here and there of still standing trolls—Terezi among them Vriska hoped—but those were under the careful attention of the hierarchist enforcers and the remainders of Vriska's group. They would pass the message on, once Veruna spoke. Then the hierarchists would beat a hasty retreat through pre-arranged routes, because the palace and city enforcers would arrive soon thanks to Vriska allowing Eridan's escape. 

Not that they were out of enforcers in the ballroom. Tethys was still standing as far as Vriska knew, and wouldn't stand aside for the hierarchists. She'd be killed as surely as Empress Gyliea. Kythal was just being cautious, sending their fighters ahead. No sense risking the fake Empress afte rall. Better to throw the violets at Tethys en mass, maybe even let them wear her down before Kythal stepped in to slay her and win credit in Veruan's eyes. If his violets let him. But no, a power struggle amongst the hierarchists was too much to hope for this early on, wasn't it? With the way her luck was going—there was still a searing pain in her pan and eye—they would be strongly united before their chosen Empress, and escape with enough time to have no problems. Luck had never been something Vriska had been awash in. For some reason she was offended by that, but it wasn't important right now. 

It wasn't important right now in part due to the fact that a roar worthy of a crazed cholerbear had just erupted from the direction of the ruined podium. With it came the white and black uniform of an enforcer bursting through the smoke, and filled to bursting with the furious energy of Tethys Hydrus on a war path. If Vriska hadn't been expected it, she might have jumped. As it was she merely flinched at the display, and failed to envy any of Kythal's men in their current task. 

Eridan had been a more than competent fighter, he'd met and exceeded all the expectations one might put on the future Commander of the Enforceres, not to mention the personal guardian of the heiress Feferi. But Tethys, who had trained him, was a different thing altogether. For one thing, she was fast, in a way that the normal eye couldn't follow. The first of Kythal's men went down in the literal blink of an eye. One second Tethys had stood before the troll, blade poised and body in perfect form to strike. The next her target was down, and the only way Vriska knew he was dead was a sudden burst of fear followed by an abrupt lack she could feel even through her newly discovered and poorly trained psychic protections. The second troll went down just as fast, a feat all the more impressive for the fact that this one had snuck up on Tethys and had been standing several feet away. 

In another situation it might have been beautiful. Vriska might have meditated on the idea of poetry in motion. Comparisons may have been made to dancers who had mastered their craft. To waves breaking upon the pink-tinted sands of the shore. Maybe she could even have disregarded the splashes of violet that marred Tethys's uniform, or counted them as decorations that doubled as a nod to one's color and thus level of service. As it was, this was the situation, and Vriska looked on with one eye and wondered if maybe, just maybe, Tethys would end things here on her own. Not entirely on her own. Vriska was within reach of Veruna. A well placed dagger throw and...

A sound and emotion cut across her line of thought. The sound a click and high pitched whirr. The emotion satisfaction. Tethys must have heard the sound, because her head turned, eyes wide, Kythal's name on her lips and everything about her radiating defeat. There was only enough time for Vriska to cover her eyes as the whirr became a screech and their air took on the distinctive smell of ozone. That would have been bad enough, all things considered, but the scent soon changed, replaced by the smell of overcooked meat and freely flowing blood. 

Vriska uncovered her eyes, and swallowed her horror as she took in the sight before her. Tethys was still standing, though more in shock than anything else. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that the remains of Tethys still stood. Because there was very clearly no life left in the body. Not really a surprise that she was dead, considering the hole the size of one of Goatad's fists that had been punched through Tethys's chest. There was smoke coming from the tip of Kythal's plasma rifle, making the source of the fatal shot more than obvious.

“Messy,” Veruna commented as Tethys fell forward, crumpling like a wriggler's paper doll that had its strings cut. “But a lovely addition to her enforcer uniform. Maybe I'll have my own enforcers add a bloody ring to their uniforms.”

“Your desires are our will, my Empress,” Kythal said, bowing. 

“Tell me, is it satisfying to slay your former kismesis?” Veruna asked, picking her way through Kythal's violet guards, and stepping daintily onto the heavily damaged platform. 

“Yes, my lady. Good to see her finally put into her place.”

Veruna nodded in agreement, and slowly twirled her war-fork between her fingers. “I hope I shall have the chance to experience it.”

Part of Vriska wanted to point out that the Empress hardly counted as Veruna's kismesis, especially considering the fact that Veruna had been believed dead for sweeps upon sweeps. It wasn't hard to hold her tongue. There wasn't any point in correcting Veruna, not here and not now. It would be deadly. Too many things these days were. 

“Maybe I should have gone into a different line of work,” she mumbled, more to herself than anything, and had to resist the urge to laugh when the slitherbeast tapped her collarbone twice. Wasn't it nice to have such a supportive moirail?

“Whale, whale, whale. Look what we have here,” Veruna crooned as she came to a stop, a menacing grin plastered on her face. “It has been a long time, hasn't it sister?”

A voice, both familiar and strange, croaked out a weak response from the wreckage. “Veruna. You... live.”

“Indeed. Don't I?” as Veruna laughed, Vriska started to creep closer, to catch sight of the troll speaking with Veruna. “That makes one of us.”

“Why...?”

“Oh come now, do you reely not remember just why? Are you pulling my line? Oh my dear, forgetful as ever. I've come to take what is mine. The throne. Too long have you misguided our people. I intend to put things to rights.”

“There is no... right in... what you want.”

At last Vriska was close enough, and her pusher almost broke at the sight. Never had she been more glad that Sollux hadn't been able to figure a way to give her a small camera to record what Vriska saw. The great Empress lay broken on the ruined platform. Her skin was charred black, her legs completely mangled, and one of her facial fins torn off by a piece of wood. A large shard of the podium had apparently been launched by the explosion, and it was now embedded in her shoulder. All over she was splattered with brilliant and beautiful fuchsia blood, not to mention fresh spots of violet from the death of Tethys. She looked so small, so pathetic, so weak. How had their Empress fallen this far? 

It was Vriska's fault. All Vriska's fault. She had killed the Empress. The Empress who had done nothing ill to her. Who had saved her and her wardmates from Spided. Who had given Karkat a chance at a real life. And how had she repaid the Empress?

Gog, she was going to be sick. 

“We've always disagreed there. Now we will see who is right. Goodbye, sister.”

“Veruna...”

“Yes?”

“Rot in the depths of the sea.”

Apparently Veruna didn't much like the suggestion, because the war-fork was whirling in her fingers once more. Then, abruptly, it stopped, the fuchsia gripped it tightly in her two hands, and brought it down into the chest of Empress Gyliea. 

Keeping control of her mind after the explosion had been a struggle for Vriska, but there was something very different about dealing with Gyliea's death. It felt like a mournful crooning was piercing her, body and pan, and it made her want to scream. Something, something BIG, was out there, screaming in loss over the death of the Empress. Something that Vriska's pan could not even begin to block out. Only strength of will alone kept Vriska on her feet, and only the weakness she felt from loss of blood was enough to keep people from looking twice as she stumbled back a step, pan rioting with the crooning. 

“You first,” Veruna was whispering, still smiling. At last she rose up fully and turned to face her gathered victims and supporters.

Even as Vriska regained her balance, the crooning at last gone, Veruna was spinning the war-fork again, turning it so that the fuchsia-stained prongs faced the ceiling. When she jabbed it up towards the sky three times the motion was accompanied by approving cheers from her followers. And pained sobs from those innocents left standing. 

“It has come,” Veruna said, lifting her voice to be heard throughout the room, in the kind of way that only fuchsias seemed capable of pulling off. “Brothers and sisters, our time has come. We stand now at the the beginning of a new age. The age where those worthy of power are given it. No longer will the high serve the low. This is a perversion of our world. Perversion of our blood. Perversion of the hemohierarchy that we should live by.”

Someone, somewhere out in the crowd booed, and the sound was quickly replaced by a gasp of pain. Vriska just stood her ground, silent and holding in all of her own mourning. 

“This is the age where our people are lead to the right way of thinking. Too long have my sisters and ancestors led you wrong. I will correct this. Know this, high and lowblood alike. Know your places, serve me, and you will be allowed your lives. If you act against the good of the new regime, you will die. Your quadrants will die. Your inclade will die. Serve, learn your place, and act as befits the place you are born into by your blood.

“You will do this, because it is proper. You will do this to save your pathetic lives. You will do this because the price for disobedience is more than you can fathom obeying. Submit to me. Obey me. And learn your place. Those who stand with the current Heiress will know sorrow. Those who swear loyalty to me may live. But all shall know the will of Empress Veruna. All shall follow, or mourn their loss. 

“Those of you who still live, do so at the sufferance of my strategist, Vriska Serket. You will spread the world of what has happened here, and you will teach obedience. You will forsake these misguided thoughts of equality. Those who have always done so, we will know you. We will find you. And you will be brought before Kythal Ampora to be judged. Together you will fight with us, and take Beforus to the glory it should know.”

Vriska could do little more but stand by in shock as she heard Veruna name Kythal fully. Kythal Ampora? And he had been kismesis to Tethys Hydrus at one point? Did that mean... Here she'd thought things were already hard enough on Eridan with what was coming. But to have to face a man who could quite honestly be a direct ancestor to him... Who had slain his guardian...

Yeah, if Equius didn't hunt her down to kill her, Eridan surely would. Just what she wanted out of all of this. 

“Bow down, lowblood. The time has come. Bow down or die. Fighting will get you no where.”

Then, with a simple gesture, everyone was moving. Kythal's guards started forward, clearing the way for Veruna, and Vriska fell in behind them. Bad enough that she'd had to run into Terezi, but had Veruna really had to go and announce her name to the whole of the assembled? 

Oh well. She'd known tonight was going to be the end of her life as she knew it. What was the point in worrying about it now?

Her life was over either way.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a long week ahead of me, with far too much homework, and because of some issues with the car, I may have less time than I would like to do them in. Thus I was dealing with the high chance of not being able to finish this story when originally intended. So I decided I'd trick my normal update schedule and give you a treat. So enjoy it, because this is the end, my friends.

Board Administrator doubleDown [BADD] opened memo on board We8 2piinniing. 

BADD: So, I've got good news and 8ad news.

BADD: Good news is that I've had my eye looked at 8y a relia8le healthtender, and it looks like I'm not losing my vision.

BADD: 8ad news is, well, rather o8viously plastered AAAAAAAALL over the news feeds. Guess you guys pro8a8ly noticed that one.

BADD: Let's start with some confirmations. Yes, that 'terrorist leader, Vriska Serket' is in fact myself, your fearless we8 spinning leader.

BADD: Yes, Empress Gyliea is dead, in part due to a plan that I concocted.

BADD: So please, hear me out 8efore you all a8scond. There was NO other choice here. The self-proclaimed Empress Veruna intended to see her sister dead no matter my position or actions.

BADD: If I hadn't assisted her, you would all 8e turning to TA instead for your guidance, not to mention any of you that Veruna could connect with me would 8e dead.

Board Administrator twinArmageddons [BATA] responded to memo.

BATA: okay 2o the troll who went two a bea2ttalker for an iinjury and then claiimed iit wa2 a healthtender ii2 goiing two iimply ii can't lead?

BATA: who wa2 iit that created and 2ecured the2e board2 for our communiicatiion?

BADD: Shut up, TA. Don't make me 8an you until I'm done getting stuff out there.

BATA: a2 iif you could even do that

BADD: ANYWAY, like I was saying, what I did had to 8e done. If you've got a pro8lem with that, speak up now and no one will judge you. 8ut we WILL have to cut you from the We8.

BADD: Security risks and all that. 8ut know this, the Empress was dead no matter what happened. 8y stepping into the process myself and your other 8A were a8le to minimize the suffering.

BADD: Why else do you think the hierarchists accidentally used a suppression poison which local heathtenders were a8le to counteract in a vast majority of the cases? And trust me, 8oys and girls, that was not without cost. My healthtender will tell you that my leg was 8roken for that little 'mistake.'

BATA: 2top calliing hiim a healthtender he2 only a bea2ttalker and tender you are liiterally gettiing your health care adviice from a guy that work2 wiith hoofbea2t2

Board Member adiosToreador [BMAT] responded to memo. 

BMAT: uH, tHE HOOFBEASTS TEND TO BE BETTER BEHAVED,

BADD banned BMAT from responding to memo. 

BADD: At least I can 8an your comments.

BATA unbanned BMAT from responding to memo.

BADD: You're such a pain. Have I told you that recently?

BATA: ii remember 2omethiing along the liine2 of 'ow ow ow why doe2 thii2 hurt 2o much' a biit ago

BATA: that what you mean?

BADD: H8 you. H8 you so much. 

BATA: ju2t let me ru2h off and tell that two your kii2me2ii2

BADD: Ignoring you now. Like I was saying, the important thing is that we're still fighting. The price that has 8een paid is too high to 8ack out now. I ask that you still stand with us in the coming perigees, and even sweeps. 

BADD: The 8attle has just 8egun, and now that Veruna has managed to cut me off from most of 8eforus, I need the We8 more than ever. I need all of you. We will 8ring these people down, from the inside out. We will support Empress Feferi in her ascension. We will protect out friends, our quadrants, our clades. We have to do it 8ecause no one else can. Not like we can, not like we have.

BADD: Fight 8eside me. Protect the things we love. Never surrender to the inequality Veruna would foist upon us.

BADD: What say you all?

Board Member technicallyUninspired [BMTU] responded to memo.

BMTU: we ^lre^dy spoke ^bout it vrisk^ 

BMTU: we ^re with you

BMTU: ^lw^ys h^ve been ^lw^ys will be

BADD: Already spoke a8out it? When?

BATA: ii 2et up a board iin the hour2 iimmediiately after the announcement everyone here ha2 known and made theiir decii2iion2 niight2 ago

BMAT: sEEMED L1KE THE ONLY TH1NG WE COULD DO TO HELP YOU AT THAT PO1NT,

BMTU: the others ^sked me to spe^k for them

BMTU: figured the best troll to he^r it from w^s your w^rdm^te

BADD: Thank you, Remium. Thank you all. 8e ready, then. We won't know when we'll need you to move.

BMTU: of course

BMAT: aLWAYS,

BATA: can we drop thii2 2appy 2hiit now?

BADD: One day we will win you over, you stone-pushered freak.

BATA closed memo.

Board Administrator divinityAscendant [BADA] opened memo on board Victory.

BADA: Ho)/\\( is your l3---Eg doing my d3---Ear?

Board Member createDiscord [BMCD] responded to memo. 

BMCD: It would 8e doing WORLDS 8etter if you hadn't 8roken it.

BADA: Don't b3---E koi. You kno)/\\( that I haddock to do it. Punishm3---Ent for failur3---E.

BMCD: Forgive me, Empress, if I'm more than just a liiiiiiiittle mad at you. It fucking hurts.

BMCD: I didn't know. I was told everything a8out it. I'll kill the 8itch that gave it to me once I can walk again.

BADA: Wond3---Erful! You minno)/\\( I am r3---Er3---E3---Ef3---Ed to h3---Ear that. I can't )/\\(hit3---E to hav3---E my strat3---Efish r3---Eturn. E3---Els lik3---E )/\\(3---E'r3---E flound3---Ering h3---Er3---E. 

BADA: W3---E must discus our n3---Ext display. I hav3---E 3---Ev3---Ery conchfid3---Enc3---E you'll surfpris3---E m3---E afin )/\\(ith your crayativ3---E )/\\(av3---E of doing fins. 

BMCD: I'm already thinking. You'll have to w8 with 8aited 8reath. :::;D

BADA: Nic3---E on3---E. Don't do it afin.

BMCD: Of course, my Empress.

BADA: Good. No)/\\(, ar3---E you shor3---E that you don't n3---E3---Ed a saf3---E harbor to r3---Ecov3---Er?

BADA: I barracuda b3---E p3---Ersuad3---Ed to shar3---E on3---E of my spar3---E cav3---Es )/\\(ith you. I'v3---E got a f3---E)/\\( 3---Extra, right Kythal?

Board Member pulsarRifle [BMPR] responded to memo.

BMPR: Of course, My Empress. Your desires are ever my goals.

BMCD: I've TOOOOOOOOTALLY got this covered. I've got a perfect safe haven. A place I set up 8efore the strike.

BADA: Alright. Tak3---E car3---E, d3---Ear. I n3---E3---Ed your pan.

BADA closed memo.

stealSunrise [SS] began trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC] 

SS: I see you made it through.

GC: WHO 1S TH1S?

SS: You've already forgotten me? How saaaaaaaad. D::::

GC: VR1SK4

SS: Got it in one. Like I said, glad to see you made it through the whole thing.

GC: GL4D OR UPS3T? B3C4US3 YOU SHOULD B3 UPS3T 

GC: GU3SS WH1CH L3G1ST1C4TOR GOT 4SS1GN3D TO H3LP TH3 3NFORC3RS F1ND YOU 

GC: >:D

SS: I'm SOOOOOOOO scared. W8, no, I'm totally not. I'm pretty much certain you aren't going to catch me.

SS: Also, isn't it against your legisticator rules to fail to disclose your relationship with me?

GC: OH DONT WORRY VR1SK4 1 TOLD TH3M 

GC: TURNS OUT TH4T NOT ONLY 4R3 TH3Y SUP3R 34G3R TO C4TCH YOU 4ND YOUR P3OPL3 BUT TH3Y F33L H4V1NG SOM3ON3 1N YOUR 4SH3N QU4DR4NT S34RCH 1S TH3 B3ST 1D34

GC: TH3Y TH1NK TH4T MY BL4CK3R F33L1NGS W1LL K33P M3 4FT3R YOU BUT OUR CONN3CT1ON TO K4RK4T W1LL K33P M3 FROM K1LL1NG YOU WH3N 1 F1ND YOU

GC: N3V3R OCCURR3D TO TH3M TH4T 1D S33 YOU D34D 4S 4 THR34T TO OUR 4USP1T1C3

SS: I'd never hurt Kakart, Terezi. You know that.

GC: 1 KNOW NOTH1NG OF TH3 SORT H1S BLOOD COLOR 1S UN1QU3 4ND QU1T3 PO1NT3DLY OUTS1D3 OF TH3 H3MOH13R4RCHY SP3CTRUM YOUR K1ND TOUT

GC: WOULDNT K1LL1NG H1M 4FT3R TH3 FORM3R 3MPR3SS 1MPR1SON3D ON3 OF YOUR K1ND FOR H1S S4K3 R34LLY B3 4 F34TH3R 1N YOUR C4PS?

SS: Idiot girl. If Karkat was at any threat from me, he'd long since 8e dead, don't you think?

GC: NOT 4T 4LL H3 W4S S3NT TO L1V3 W1TH TH3 F4M3D CYCLOS 4ND3RS V3RY QU1CKLY 4FT3R TH3 C4S3 W4S D3C1D3D

GC: NOT 4T 4LL H3 W4S S3NT TO L1V3 W1TH TH3 F4M3D CYCLOS 4ND3RS V3RY QU1CKLY 4FT3R TH3 C4S3 W4S D3C1D3D

GC: YOU H13R4RCH1STS 4R3 COW4RDS YOU WOULDNT R1SK YOURS3LV3S 4G41NST SUCH 4 STRONG PS1ON1C JUST TO G3T 4T K4RK4T YOULL JUST W41T UNT1L H3 F1N1SH3S H1S SCHOOLF33D1NG

GC: PROBL3M 1S TH4T 1 WONT L3T YOU HURT H1M N31TH3R WOULD 4R4D14 OR N3P3T4

GC: 1F YOU W4NT H1S BLOOD YOUV3 GOT TO GO THROUGH TH3M 4ND 4N 4RMY

SS: First of all: Karkat is safe 8ecause he's one of my quadrants. My Empress won't 8etray me like that. Second of all: The only one I'd really 8e worried a8out is Gamzee. He's crazy.

GC: NO 1TS NOT G4MZ33 YOUR3 WORR13D 4BOUT 4S MUCH 4S 1 H4T3 H1M 1 R3COGN1Z3 4ND R3SP3CT H1S STR3NGTH BUT TH4T 1SNT WH4T M4K3S YOU H3S1T4T3

GC: 1TS K4N4Y4 YOUR M4T3SPR1T

GC: SH3 H4T3S YOU NOW D1D YOU KNOW TH4T?

GC: HOW COULD SH3 P1TY 4 MURD3R3R? 4 TR41TOR?

SS: You don't know Kanaya like I do.

GC: NO BUT 1 JUST H4D H3R 1N FOR 4N 1NT3RV13W SH3 W4S POS1T1V3LY V3NOMOUS

SS: You're just trying to hurt me, Terezi. I can see through your pathetic attempts.

SS: Whatever. I just dropped in to see if you survived. You know, as opposed to some legisticator pretending to 8e you to catch me. 

SS: 8ut let's 8e honest. No one can 8e this o8noxious as an act. It's a genuine, one of a kind, Terezi Pyrope trait.

SS: Wanted to 8e sure none of my men hurt you and got Karkat pissed at me despite my 8est efforts to keep you alive.

SS: Good luck with your hunt, Terezi. I hope you enjoy the taste of failure. Again. Don't forget, you haven't 8eat me 8efore this. You won't now. Who 8roke up your red romance with Karkat, after all? Don't dou8t my a8ilities.

GC: S4YS TH3 TROLL WHO M4D3 TH3 M1ST4K3 OF G1V1NG M3 TH31R N3W TROLL14N H4NDL3 4R3 YOU R34LLY TH4T STUP1D?

SS: Terezi, dear, do you really think I would have done this if I wasn't certain of my security? Send all you want at me. You won't 8e a8le to make any use of your knowledge.

stealSunrise [SS] ceased trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]

GC: VR1SK4!

Unable to deliver message. User stealSunrise does not exist. Please check your spelling and try again.

GC: TH1S 1SNT OV3R!

Unable to deliver message. User stealSunrise does not exist. Please check your spelling and try again.

stealSunrise [SS] began trolling centaursTesticle [CT]

SS: How's the m8sprit doing?

CT: D --> She is quite alive and furious despite your efforts to the contrary

SS: If I wanted her dead, she would 8e, Equius. I'm just TOOOOOOOO good at what I do. I have all the successes I ever want. ALL OF THEM.

CT: D --> Both Eridan and Feferi have told the tail of your failure, Serket

CT: D --> I am more inclined to believe their reputable testimony than your nickering protests

CT: D --> They have only furthered my previous summations regarding your character, that you are of the most low and disgusting kind there can be

SS: Oh Equius... If only you could even 8EGIN to fathom the true complexity of what is going on. 8ut alas, you can't. Your pathetic equine pan could never see the larger picture.

CT: D --> Nothing you say can hide the abomination of your behoovure You are a b100d traitor, an insult to the majesty of service our b100 b100d commands

CT: D --> You and your kind will be destroyed, and I shall ask my beloved Feferi to allow me to strike the b100w that takes your head from your shoulders

SS: You'll have to catch me first. 8etter trolls than you will try, and fail. Catch me if you can.

CT: D --> You were responsible for the damage done to the warm b100d, Tavros, were you not

SS: The world will never know.

CT: D --> I shall You will pay for the ills you have done

SS: May8e someday. 8ut not today. Not any day soon. 8ring it, Zahhak. Try to make a 8etter showing of it than the last time we encountered each other. 

stealSunrise [SS] ceased trolling centaursTesticle [CT]

hateBrutality [HB] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

HB: I did everything I could to protect her, Karkat. I need you to know that.

CG: WHO THE EVER PITYING FUCK IS THIS? PROTECT WHO?

HB: It doesn't matter. I just needed you to know that I tried to keep her out of this. I really did. She wasn't supposed to 8e there. 

CG: VRISKA?

HB: I won't let them hurt you. That's what I'm fighting for. You, Gamzee, Kanaya, even Aradia. I won't let them hurt you. I just have to fight them in my own way.

CG: VRISKA, YOU NEED TO BE SMART FOR ONCE AND TURN YOURSELF THE FUCK IN. THE LEGISTICATORS WILL BE FAIR IF YOU JUST WORK WITH THEM.

HB: I can't. Working with them would destroy everything I've fought for. Would 8e the death of you. I won't let that happen, Karkat. Ever. I just need you to understand that. And I won't contact you again, not until all of this is over. So please, just don't tell anyone you even heard from me. Tell no one.

hateBrutality [HB] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

CG: VRISKA...

Unable to deliver message. User hateBrutality does not exist. Please check your spelling and try again.

CG: FUCK.

Unable to deliver message. User hateBrutality does not exist. Please check your spelling and try again.

CG: I KNOW YOU CAN READ THIS YOU LYING PIECE OF WASTE MATERIAL. DON'T DO THIS. THIS IS SO MOTHERFUCKING STUPID THAT EVEN GAMZEE COULD SEE THAT THROUGH THE DEPTHS OF ONE OF HIS RAGES. JUST GIVE THIS UP. TURN YOURSELF IN AND HELP THE ENFORCERS. LIFE IN PRISION IS WAY BETTER THAN DEATH.

Unable to deliver message. User hateBrutality does not exist. Please check your spelling and try again.

CG: PLEASE. SURELY SAVING ME AND REMIUM FROM OUR GUARDIAN WAS PROOF ENOUGH THAT YOU AREN'T THIS KIND OF PERSON. JUST STOP THIS DAMN GAME. IT ISN'T FUNNY AND IT'S GOING TO GET YOU FUCKING KILLED.

Unable to deliver message. User hateBrutality does not exist. Please check your spelling and try again.

CG: FUCK!

Unable to deliver message. User hateBrutality does not exist. Please check your spelling and try again.

hateBrutality [HB] began trolling grimauxiliatrix [GA]

HB: She never meant to see you get hurt. 

GA: Excuse Me

HB: None of this was supposed to go the way it did. Everything just started spiraling out of control. This wasn't what she wanted, and she needed you to understand that.

GA: Forgive Me But I Am Not Quite Sure What It Is To Which You Are Alluding

GA: An Increase To The Context Under Which This Conversation Is Taking Place Would Do Much To Further My Understanding 

GA: As Well As Some Form Of Confirmation That I Am Indeed The Individual To Which You Truly Mean This Message To Reach

HB: The neck adornment came out wonderfully, right?

GA: Who Are You And How Do You Know Of The Neck Adornment That My Former Matesprit Gifted Unto Me Before Her Departure

HB: Former matesprit? She'd be rather upset to hear you address her in such a way. But I suppose she really did earn it, all things considered. 

HB: I assisted her in the creation of the piece. 

GA: I Was Not Informed Of This

GA: Who Are You

HB: Her moirail. 

GA: I Am Not Sure That I Believe Your Claims But I Will Continue To Listen To Your Words Regardless

HB: There isn't really much else to say. I promised her that after she was forced to leave I would send you a message. That she was sorry. That there were reasons for what she did, and if there had been another way, she would have taken it.

GA: I Believe I Understand What You Are Trying To Impart To Me But I Am Not Entirely Sure I Believe Your Words

GA: If Vriska Had A Moirail I Would Have Been Rendered Aware Of It

HB: Do you really believe that? After all, she did fail to tell you of her involvement with the hierarchists, did she not?

GA: Go Away I Never Wish To Be Bothered By Your Presence Again

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling hateBrutaility [HB]

“Well?”

Vriska sighed as she powered off her husktop. Nothing had gone how she expected. Well, no, that wasn't exactly true. The brief meeting with the We8 and Veruna had been most of what she expected. The We8 had come back with a response far faster than she expected. But that didn't make her interactions with Terezi or Equius any less upsetting. Didn't make Karkat's words less painful, or Kanaya's less heartbreaking. Maybe she shouldn't have reached out. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything. Let them live in silence, never sure about her motives, never knowing if she was still out there. 

“That bad, huh?” Tavros asked, moving to sit next to her on the couch. Of course, he was very careful to make sure that he didn't bump into her leg as he made a place to himself on the corner of the couch. Once he was settled, his metal leg covered with a pillow and his arm out of the way, he gestured for Vriska to join him. She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and yet still shifted her weight so she was resting her lead in his lap. 

“What's it matter?” she asked, closing her eyes as she settled in. 

“They're important to you, right?” he asked, running the fingers of his flesh hand through her hair. “You fight for them.”

“And for you. And for everyone else.”

“But mainly for them,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Vriska, you're giving up so much of your life for their sakes, and they can't even recognize it. But hey, some of the most amazing people in our history gave up everything they loved for the sake of others.”

“Name one.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not really the quadrant for that, Tav,” she laughed, reaching up and tweaking at a lock of his hair. 

“Just don't give up, Vriska. Someday they'll understand why we do this.”

“I doubt it.”

“But isn't it worth it to try?” 

He was right. Tavros was right more often than not when it came to her. When it came to this. 

“I'm doing the right thing, aren't I?”

Two taps at her throat, her pet slitherbeast Rasp confirming the opinions of her moirail. 

“I'll have to leave soon. To get back to Veruna.”

“Don't leave yet,” Tavros whispered, draping his metal arm around her neck, careful not to bump into Rasp. “You're not ready to go back out there.”

“I don't really have a choice.”

“Stay here. With me. I can keep you safe.”

“You know I can't, Tav,” she sighed. “We've got a whole world to save.”

“If anyone can do it, it's you.”

“You've got some faith in me.”

“You don't betray it.”

“One of the few things I don't.”

“Oh just shut up for a bit and relax. You're not leaving here until your leg can support your weight.”

“You sound like a damn worried new guardian.”

“Well, someone has to look after you.”

“And I'm stuck with you?” Vriska chuckled.

“Absolutely. Never going to let you get away.”

“Well, maybe I'll just drag you along next time Veruna wants something from me.”

“What, you hate me that much?”

“Tavros?”

“Yeah Vriska?”

“Shut up and brush my hair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you really did enjoy the story. There will be more soon. Look out for the next story in the series, which will focus on Sollux. I still don't have a name in mind. I also don't know when it will start. I've got to get a handle on my schedule first.
> 
> Finally, points and free one-shot to the first person who figures out the significance of Vriska's handles.


End file.
